


Hey guys, it's me! The biggest disappointment you know.

by WifeysforLifey



Series: Paciencia y Fe [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Actress AU, F/F, Postpartum Depression, Swan Queen AU, Swan Queen Week Winter 2018, TW for baby weight shaming?, and there is a lot going on, bilingual Regina, in which emma is postpartum, supportive Regina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-19 15:44:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 31,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13707561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WifeysforLifey/pseuds/WifeysforLifey
Summary: Swan Queen Week: Winter 2018Emma is going back to work six weeks after the birth of her and Regina's son, but will Hollywood accept her back graciously? Will Regina be able to help her wife? (I don't know, I suck at summarizing this story- read and find out?)





	1. Hey guys, it's me! The biggest disappointment you know.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! So I was initially going to post the entirely completed fic but it is a) turning into a monster that is slowing the hell out of my google docs making me annoyed, and b) I wanted to get it submitted before late posts weren't accepted! :) BUT! I have majority of the next chapter written so it should be up within a week... two if I'm busy.
> 
> That being said I have squeezed in six of the seven prompts into one. The only prompt missing is sucked in because there is no magic in this story. :) Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! And please pardon any mistakes, this isn't beta'd and I am a tired girl :)

_______

 The kid couldn't hack it,

She's back and she's walkin’ real slow.

Welcome home.

Just breathe.

______

 

“Straighten the spine. Smile like you mean it,” Emma quietly commanded her reflection, watching her body elongate with tired eyes and a false smile spread across her makeupless lips. “Suck that pouch in. That’s right. Try to look like you can do this.”

Today was the day. She would be going back to work after what felt like the shortest six weeks that ever existed in the realm of maternity leave. Apparently having a baby didn’t rank high enough in the world of television to warrant time at home with her newborn son, Henry.

 _But it’ll be fine_ , she thought. _It has to be fine. We can do this._

Taking one last look at the prominent dark circles under her eyes and the body that’s still hers but not with all of its new soft curves and gentles dips that have long replaced hard lines and hip bones, she sighed. Today would be rough but at least Regina would be only a phone call away when she undoubtedly went down the rails.

Even with the reassurance of her wife it still took everything in her to not crawl back into bed on her way through the bedroom. She knew she couldn’t but the want was strong. Being an adult sucked sometimes but she was determined to adult with the best of them.

Her scheduled time to be on set was eight o’clock and damn it she was going to be on time and prove that you could be a working mom in this industry like the countless other women around her.

“If Alyson Hannigan can do it so can I,” she grumbled.

At least she hoped she could.

 _Dammit_ , she scolded herself,  _be positive_!

Positivity wasn’t always her strong suit but she had to give it a try, she just had to. If not the alternative would be crying and that was also something she wasn’t too good with but with all of those lingering hormones from her pregnancy and the strange phenomena that occurred every time she looked down at her sleeping son’s rounded face in the middle of the night she’d sadly come to one horrifying conclusion. She was a hysterical cryer. And it was not okay. Not at all.

Emma Swan-Mills was not okay with becoming a cryer. Her wife on the other hand found it to be the funniest most endearing thing she’d ever witnessed in their six years of being together.

“The strong Emma Swan reduced to tears over a sock,” she’d teased one afternoon when she’d found Emma in the middle of the nursery with a basket of laundry bawling into a handful of teeny tiny socks clutched to her chest.

It wasn’t her fault that the thought of those itty bitty baby feet growing had caused her to break into uncontrollable sobs. It could happen to anyone.

Sighing, Emma shook herself from the memory as she descended the stairs. The last thing she needed was a trigger to set off a take two of the ‘he’ll be growing so fast and I’m going to miss it because I’m always at work’ sobfest that had claimed her last night. She instead focused on the smell of coffee wafting from the kitchen.

Coffee good. Crying jag bad. Coffee good. Crying jag bad. Coffee good. Crying jag bad.

She continued the mantra all the way to the kitchen, where she froze in place, transfixed by the sight of her wife swaying in front of the sliding glass doors that lead to the backyard, haloed in the early morning light while she sang quietly to their son. Emma couldn’t hear the whispered words Regina hummed into the captivated boy’s ear but she knew that whatever they were would without a doubt be saturated with the love both women felt for the tiny human they’d brought into existence.

And that was all it took to send her reeling.

Tears stung the backs of her eyes and the longing she felt to hold Henry and Regina was so strong it stole her breath away. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to leave this perfect bubble they’d found themselves in for the last few weeks. It was too soon. She wasn’t ready to lose these moments that filled her with a level of peace and contentment she didn’t know her body could physically contain. Screw Alyson Hannigan. Screw adulthood. Screw being an actress. She was a weepy mess of a woman running on no sleep who didn't want to leave her family and she didn't give a fuck all who knew it.

A harsh sniffle at the back of the room caught Regina’s attention and when she looked up to find Emma, she spotted the tears that were already welled up in those sea green eyes and watched Emma’s face begin blotch pink with the effort she was putting in to keep the moisture from falling. The sight made Regina feel equal parts amusement and sadness for her wife who was clearly struggling to keep it together.

“Oh nena,” she crooned, shifting Henry in her arms so that she could extend one out invitingly. “Come here.”

Emma needed no more invitation than that to blindly stumble across the open space with tear blurred eyes, snuggling herself into the space Regina had created for her with a stifled sob. “I hate this,” she lamented into warm perfume scented skin.

Regina chuckled softly, pressing her lips against Emma’s temple. “The crying or the leaving?”

Both was the muffled answer she got in return and it only made her chuckle more.

“When you woke up you were excited to get back to work and see Mary Margaret again. You even said the scenes with Killian would be decent ones today- lots of fighting in the ER and how you’d finally get to be the doctor in control during a crisis,” she soothed, her hand brushing along Emma’s curved spine comfortingly. “What changed between then and now?”

“This. You. Him. Us.”

Emma’s arm flopped around them like that was explanation enough. Sighing, she lifted her head up and smiled a watery smile down at Henry who was none the wiser that today both of his mothers would be away from him for the first time in his little life. “You just looked so- I don’t know. I don’t want this happy bubble we’re in to pop yet. What if he misses us? What if Mrs. Poppins can’t remember how to swaddle him the right way?”

A frown began to form on Regina’s brow and she cocked her head to the side in askance. “He doesn’t like to be swaddled.”

“EXACTLY! What if she forgets that! What if he starves while I’m gone??? You know he hasn’t taken to the bottle as well as the boob! And!”

Henry’s soft whine of displeasure stopped Emma’s tirade before Regina could even open her mouth to protest those not so valid fears. Retracting her arm from around her wife, Regina began to pat his back gently, swaying from side to side to calm the little boy’s growing upset. “Shhhh, you both need to calm down. I know he hasn’t really taken to the bottle but Emma he won’t starve. He’ll feed just fine when he’s hungry enough. And it’s not like he’s going to be with the nanny all day. I only have that one meeting and I promise I won’t let it run long. He’ll be fine with me once I’m home.”

A flush of embarrassment flooded Emma’s already reddened cheeks, “I know. I know that. God- what the hell is wrong with me? I’m sorry babe, I didn’t mean for it to sound like I didn’t trust _you_.” With shaky fingers she traced the puckered frown between Henry’s soft dusting of eyebrows to try and ease the upset away. “Just… Ignore everything I just said. I’m sorry little man, I didn’t mean to scare you with my freak out. S’all good in the hood.”

Regina snickered but shifted the baby in her arms so that Emma could take him. “I would hardly call the Hills the hood my love, and for the record I don’t think there is anything wrong with you either. You’re sleep deprived, hormonal, and understandably nervous. None of that equates to ‘wrong’ in my book.”

“Is this where you pep talk me and tell me to just imagine everyone in their underwear? Because if so can I put a hard pass on Killian? I’ve already had to see him shirtless and there is only so much body hair I can stomach visually,” Emma grimaced, adjusting Henry as he rooted around against her chest with growing alertness.

Regina barked out a pleased laugh as she poured them each a cup of coffee. “I don’t think any of my pep talks would ever include envisioning him in his underwear so I’m pleased we’re both on the same page there.” Adding a little extra dip of creamer to Emma’s, she carried both mugs over to the table and settled beside the seat Emma claimed in order to feed Henry. “Though I can't say I'd be any happier with you picturing any of your coworkers undressed but if that's what will get you through the day…”

Emma scoffed, her fingers deftly setting to work on unbuttoning the top few buttons of her shirt. “Please, the only person I want to imagine anywhere near naked is sitting right next to me. And no, I'm not talking about the baby, thank you very much.”

Regina couldn’t help the self satisfied smirk her lips quirked into at that. She raised the warm mug of coffee to her lips but didn't take a sip, instead she watched the tiny squawking boy grow more frustrated when his blonde mother took too long unclasping her nursing bra, his little face skewing up and flushed as a real wail filled the kitchen followed by another and another.

“He’s certainly coming into those lungs isn’t he,” she said, about to reach out and assist him in latching on when he finally landed his mark and greedily set to suckling down his second breakfast of the morning.

“You mean he’s kind of a tyrant? Yeah, I’m seeing that,” Emma snorted and rolled her eyes. Regina would have believed the affronted air if it weren’t for her tender smile she cast down at the now content Henry. “Now if only the boob would make him chill during the colic hour we’d be set! Think you can try and persuade him into that while I’m gone?”

Quirking an eyebrow up, Regina smirked again. “You want me to sing the praises of your breasts to our six week old?”

It was meant in jest, truly, she couldn’t help but tease her other half but Regina didn’t miss the real meaning behind her words, that subtle admission that Emma intended to go to work despite the ups and downs of her postpartum anxiety.

“Heeeey, I’m just saying of anyone in this world I think you’d be the best person to sing their praises since you love them so much yourself Mills,” Emma grinned a proud cheeky smile that faded as her eyes returned to their son, unease twisting her stomach into knots once more. “You’ll send me pictures while I’m gone right?”

“Of course I will,” Regina promised, choosing to glaze past the talk of her love of a certain nipply part of her wife. “I think we could even be pushed to facetime you between takes with the right incentive.”

Relief swam across Emma’s face and for the first time all morning the weight on her chest lifted just a bit. She laughed and wiggled her eyebrows faux suggestively, “I’m sure I could come up with something good.”

 

* * *

 

It took a sleeping baby, quite a few kisses and a full thermos of decaf from the best wife in the world to get Emma to finally leave the house but she did it. And… it wasn’t bad. Sure that itchy feeling of not being where she should be stuck around but after such a warm welcome back from the cast and crew she couldn’t help but feel a little more at ease.

She answered all the questions about life with the new baby and showed off every picture of her little man to anyone who so much as glanced at her phone and it was good. Much better than she’d thought it would be. And with each new picture text she received from Regina and later Mrs. Poppins she slowly but surely felt like she was treading water instead of drowning under it.

Maybe this working mom thing wouldn’t be as difficult as her over tired mind had made it seem.

It was early in the afternoon when Emma was finally able to take the second break of her day, much to the annoyance of the director.

The obnoxiously loud suction sound produced by her Medela pump filled the small trailer she usually shared with Mary Margaret but it didn't bother her any. After dealing with the nightly screaming fits courtesy of a colic ridden Henry that lasted hours at a time for the last three weeks the rhythmic pull of the pump was nothing at all. Hell it could even be chalked up to background noise as she skimmed her lines and absently nibbled on a cheese stick.

But her moment of peaceful privacy was short lived when a knock sounded over the din. Startled, Emma scrambled to turn the machine off. She could feel the trickle of milk leak into the folded fabric of her nursing bra as she detached the pump too soon but it didn't matter, another knock sounded from her door and she hurried to cover herself though the door was securely locked. “Just a minute,” she yelled, flustered.

A minute went by and then two but she finally managed to get back into her shirt, breast pads in place to stop any more leaks, and was about to stash her freshly pumped milk in the little fridge that came in the trailer when her boss, Mr. Gold, called from the other side of the door.

“Are you alright in there Miss Swan?”

“Um, yeah- everything’s fine,” she answered, moving to unlock the door rather than continue cleaning up. Emma opened the door to an unsmiling Gold, “Sorry about that. I was, well,” holding up the clear bag of milk with a sheepish smile, she moved back to allow him inside.

“That's quite alright dearie,” but from his tone it didn’t sound alright at all, though to be fair Carlisle Gold never really sounded okay with anything. There was always a lilt of insincerity to him that had always rubbed her the wrong way but for the most part she’d managed to get by with him by doing a good job in her role and steering clear of the older man whenever she could manage. “And how is the strapping young man? At home with Regina I presume?”

Emma smiled weakly and moved to put away the spoils of her pumping session, feeling all the more awkward for having left the breast shields out on the counter. She shifted her weight and inched closer to the counter, hoping to hide them from his view. “He’s doing good. Pretty sure he’ll be going off to college any day now,” she awkwardly joked, leaning back against the counter. “So, what’s up? You don’t normally make house calls.”

Gold chuckled and nodded his head. “Never one to beat around the bush. That’s why I enjoy you Miss Swan.”

It grated on Emma’s nerves the way he’d never refer to her by her name. Her full name, the one she taken on with pride and love the day she and Regina vowed to their friends and family and each other to have and to hold and all of that other stuff that made her chest clench with feelings she didn’t always voice aloud. She knew it stemmed from some old industry feud between Regina’s mother, the indomitable Cora Mills, but still. It irked her.

“No, I uh, guess not. So shoot. Was that last take not okay?”

“No, no. Your performance was quite adequate. This has to do with your contract. As you know, Albert, Leopold, and myself were supportive when you came to us and announced your little surprise,” he began.

Supportive being the understatement of the year.

When she’d come to her showrunners with the news that they were expecting she was met with antagonism and barely concealed contempt. How dare she take their vision of Claire Holt, lead female surgeon on Boston Memorial, and make her no more than a background piece delegated to file holding and tightly filmed shots behind large reception desks and medical cots.

“We understand your delicate situation and would be willing to offer assistance to get you back to where you were before.”

Emma frowned, not following him. “Get me back to where I was?”

“Yes, we’ve come together as a team and after lengthy debate on what to do to solve this little discrepancy we’re willing to fund a personal trainer to further your progress, while understanding that some of your… assets… will be unchanged through the process for some time,” Gold continued with a glance at the poorly concealed breast shields behind Emma.

Everything around Emma seemed to stop and her heart began to pick up pace. A personal trainer?

“As you are well aware of there is a five pound fluctuation clause in your contract,” Gold pushed on when it didn’t seem like his lead actress was catching on. “Now while we are understanding of your situation it is still mandated that you adhere to your contractual agreement. We were generous with allowing you to stay on while in your condition but now it’s time to buckle down.”

Stunned. She was stunned. Gold continued to speak but the buzzing in her ears kept her from being able to take anything he was saying in. Emma could feel her body flush with embarrassment and shame.

“We would hate for it to come down to termination Emma. You’re a bright girl and have done wonders for this show.”

Her condition. He’d called her son a condition. She still had baby weight and now it was a situation. A situation that if not handled could get her fired. She was going to be fired because she still had fifteen pounds worth of baby weight clinging to her hips and abdomen.

She couldn’t think. Not with Gold staring at her expectantly. Had he asked her a question? She was hot and overwhelmed and could feel hot tears burning in her eyes from the shame that came with this kind of conversation.

“I’ll… figure it out,” Emma managed but it sounded off even to her own ringing ears. “Thank you.”

Gold must have heard it too because for a moment his lips twitched in what could only loosely be described as a pitying smile. “Very good, I know you won’t let us down Miss Swan.”

The moment the trailer door closed behind the retreating form of her boss, Emma lost her control. She slumped back against the counter, tears blotting the dull gray walls out, and she couldn’t stop the sobs that clawed their way up her chest.

She was going to be fired because of something that was so natural. So normal. She’d had a baby and now her job was in jeopardy because of it. Why hadn’t she stayed home? Away from reality and the world and men who viewed her as nothing but a body on a screen and not a person with emotions and feelings.

Her heart was beating too hard. She couldn’t breathe. All she wanted was Regina and Henry and for this mess to not be real.

Blindly grabbing her bag from the table, Emma felt for her keys, escape the only part of her brain that was able to think past the upset. She had to leave and she had to leave now.

 

* * *

 

Regina’s phone began to vibrate in quick succession with notifications the second she was free from the latest production meeting with her team. The new project they were in the works of ironing out looked promising and had her feeling genuinely excited to dig deeper into the newest script that Tamara had given her to go over one last time before they could finally begin filming their pilot.

A modern twist on fairy tales. Ones that focused on strong women, that turned heteronormativity on its head and celebrated women of color. It was a project that fit in the climate of today when me too’s and time’s up and representation meant something. When women in the industry were tired of being pushed aside, paid less, and taken advantage of.

Regina was proud of her team of women who were out to change the views of network television head on.

She was so excited. She couldn’t wait to tell Emma. Her wife would be busy filming she figured, what with it being the middle of the afternoon, but she could leave her a message to listen to between scenes.

Fishing her phone out of her purse, Regina’s excitement instantly took a dip the moment she caught sight of the messages that lit up her home screen.

_Is Emma with you?_

_Have you heard from Emma?_

_Ms. Mills, has your wife called you?_

_Ms. Mills, could you please call us at your earliest convenience? Thank you._

_They can't find Emma on set and she isn't answering her phone. Is she with you??_

_We can't find her, did she sneak off to go home for a minute??_

_Hey Regina, this is Leroy, have you seen Em? She's missing from set and they're kind of freaking out._

Each message she read made her stomach twist. Emma was missing? These messages were time stamped at the earliest an hour ago. Regina’s heart stuttered as she quickened her pace out of the office and beelined straight for her car. Her phone was pressed firmly to her ear by the time her heels hit the asphalt.

Each unanswered ring made the confusion she felt steadily shift toward worry. It wasn't like Emma to not answer her. There would always be a quick text back if a call wasn’t possible. Still the dial tone rang on.

“Hey!”

“Oh thank god, Em-”

“Sorry I missed your call! Leave a mes-”

Regina hissed and ended the call only to stab the call button again as the call switched automatically over to hands free calling the second she slid in behind the wheel. “Answer the phone Emma,” she growled at the ringing that blared through her speakers.

Where could she be? She was scheduled to be on set until late into the evening and it wasn’t like her to leave without letting someone know where she’d gone. Not after that coffee run incident a few years back at least. She knew better.

 _Maybe she fell asleep in her trailer_ , Regina nervously thought, speeding through a red light in her hurry to get home. Her thumb hovered over the command button on her steering wheel for a moment before she committed. “Call Mary Margaret.”

It took less than a second for the call to connect before the anxious voice of her wife’s castmate came squeaking through the sound system. “Oh my god Regina! Please tell me she's with you!”

The vein hope Regina had allowed to bubble up faded before it had time to fully blossom. “No, she isn't. I was in a meeting, what the hell happened?? What do you mean you can't find her?!”

“I don't know what happened!! We were getting ready to film a scene but she didn't come back to set. I thought she might have fallen asleep, I know she was tired when she got here but when the assistant director came back he said that she wasn't in the trailer! We've been looking for her for over an hour Regina. No one can get ahold of her. Production’s been shut down. Spencer and Gold are furious. My dad’s worried. She hasn't called you?!”

Regina could feel the steady shift to fear welling in her chest but she batted it down. She had to be smart about this. She had to find her wife and getting upset wouldn't help her with that. There would be time for fear later- if… no. No, she couldn't think of the if’s. Not yet. Not ever if she had her way.

“I know. Gold and your father left me quite a few messages and voicemails but if she’d called me do you really think I would be on the phone with you right now trying to figure out what happened,” Regina snapped and turned onto their street, her heart edging up her throat when she spied a flash of yellow between the shrubbery that lined their fenced in property.

The relief was so instantaneous Regina almost choked up. Thank. God.

“Her car’s in the driveway. I’ve got to go.”

She didn't wait for Mary Margaret to respond before she ended the call. Hell, she barely gave the gate time to open before she was rolling into the driveway beside her wife’s ridiculous yellow bug. A ridiculous yellow bug she'd never been so thrilled to see.

In her rush to get inside Regina left everything behind in the car, the driver side door wide open as she rushed into the house.

“Emma?! Emma, are you here??”

Silence.

No sounds of her wife nor the cries of their son sounded back at her. She couldn’t even hear the telltale sounds of humming from the nanny in the small home and that made the relief Regina’d felt so acutely upon arrival waver, leaving room for that terrible fear to flourish anew.

“Emma??? Emma Swan you answer me,” she demanded with more vibrato than she felt, ascending the stairs two at a time. “Emma??? Emma are you here?????”

A peek into the nursery turned up nothing but an empty crib and rocker. Shit.

Now the fear was palpable. It coursed through her veins unhindered. Every postpartum horror story she’d read in the last few weeks sprung to mind. Horror stories that ended in cars in lakes, mistakes in bathtubs, and for a wild minute she pictured the worst of the worst. Emma, laying still with a lifeless Henry, the pressure of going back to work having been too much. His crying too much. The encouragement she’d been giving her having been misguided and cold instead of supportive like she'd thought she'd been. Did she read Emma wrong? Did she miss critical signs??

Pushing their master bedroom door open, Regina stopped short. The nightmare in her mind coming to fruition when her wild eyes landed on the two huddled forms in the middle of their bed.

“Emma,” her voice choked around the fast forming lump in her throat. No. No, no, no. It was just an errant thought- it wasn’t real. It wasn’t.

The soft hiss of breath that came from Emma nearly made Regina sob in relief but when that beautiful face she'd sworn to love for the rest of their days lifted from the mattress her heart stuttered once more with overwhelming concern. “Emma, what happened???”

Emma’s face crumpled long before Regina swept across the length of the bedroom to settle at her back, curled against her with protective arms encircling her from behind.

“Talk to me mi vida.”

No amount of strength could have aided Emma in her attempts to remain quiet, not when Regina whispered promises of help and comfort and love. Harsh sobs racked her body, her arms tightening infantismally around Henry out of need to feel grounded to something.

“I can't do this,” Emma bawled, the tears too thick to make out more than the blur of her son’s soft downy crown below her chin. “They- Gold said I- I h-had to get a personal trainer to lose- I'm n-not what- what they w-want f-for Claire like this. I tr-tried. S-so h-hard!”

Of all the things that Regina had thought could be the reason for all the upset not once had the appearance of her wife being unpleasant to the producers been one to cross her mind.

Missing their son? Absolutely.

Being too tired and deciding to come home and rest? Definitely. They were still trying to figure out how to navigate sleeping and feeding and everything that came with being parents. It was exhausting.

Even postpartum baby blues ranked higher on her list of possibilities than the remaining baby weight that gave her wife beautiful subtle curves to her hips and a fullness to her that looked more whole and complete as a person than the skin and bones look she’d had to her when they first met if truth be told.

What, were they also enraged over the swell of her breasts now that she was nursing too??

In an instant Regina’s tone dropped from warm and loving to lethal. “Excuse me?"

Sniffling harshly, Emma tilted her head back enough to catch Regina’s furious gaze. “I'm too f-”

“I swear on all that is good in this world if you say you're too fat I will throttle you along with Gold and Albert and Leopold and whoever else fell into agreement with this level of stupidity,” Regina growled a little too loudly and extracted herself from the family huddle, reaching for her phone that she only now realized was still in her car with a curse. “Damn it! I need your phone.”

Henry’s little chest heaved a startled breath at the command that left his mother’s lips, his splayed hands jerked up towards his face where they lingered, the picture of alarmed even in his sleep.

Regina winced and watched a single slate gray eye crack open a sliver on baited breath, a breath she didn’t let free until that eye drifted closed once more. In her relief, she silently mouthed an apology to her tearful wife and nodded for Emma to follow her out of the room.

Once Emma was sure the makeshift pillow bed rails would contain their relatively immobile son, she tentatively slipped from the bedroom, leaving the door ajar incase the napping boy woke up. It was only when she was in the hallway did she realize she was still dressed in the too tight scrubs her character on Boston Memorial wore, the unflattering sight of straining pastel pink material against her abdomen made her already low mood plummet all the more.

“I'm sorry I yelled,” Regina intoned, slipping into Emma’s space without hesitation. “I'm not mad at you, darling. I'm furious that Gold had the audacity to say that to you. It's not right and I promise I’ll handle this. Carlisle has no right-”

“It’s in my contract Regina. He wasn’t wrong. I mean look,” her hands moved to show her wife the swell of her abdomen when Regina grabbed hold of her wrists to stop her.

“No. There is no look. There is no justification, contract or not. You just had a baby six weeks ago Emma! To not put that into account is absurd. If they’re willing to pay for a personal trainer they can shell out for a new god damn scrubs,” Regina seethed, anger sharpening her words more than she intended. How dare they plant such cruel, ugly seeds of doubt in her wife’s head when she was already so vulnerable, so prone to tears, and so very believing of garbage like what was said today.

Emma’s slounders slumped under the heat of Regina’s words, her eyes cast downward, “That’s not how it works. You know that.”

Making an effort to lighten her tone, Regina released Emma’s wrists in favor of cupping her cheeks, forcing her wife to look up at her. Her warm honeyed eyes took in every red blotch of skin and tear streak that decorated the demoralized woman’s face. It hurt to see Emma so upset over the stupid words of stupid old men who had no place to criticize the magic that transformed their lives so beautifully.

Thoughtlessly, she pressed a kiss against one tear track then the other. She kissed Emma’s eyes and her nose and the corner of her lips just to feel them tug into a weak smile over the show of devotion. “You made a life in that beautiful body nena. You are perfect. You don't need to worry about losing weight. Not now, not ever,” Regina breathed, a hand slipping from Emma’s cheek to the back of her neck so that they could remain close. “I’ll take care of this. I promise.”

And for the first time since her one sided conversation with Gold the poisonous words and doubt eased to the back of her mind, quieted by the cool rationality that was Regina. The words weren’t gone, the threat to her job and fear that came with it didn’t disappear but for the moment they were blessedly silenced. She slumped into Regina’s hold and closed her eyes, breathing in the spicy scent that drove away the remaining wisps of worry.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Regina chuckled and snuggled in closer and swayed their bodies in place much like she would with Henry, her lips ghosting against Emma’s warm skin. “No mi vida, you deserve so much more.”

 

* * *

 

 

The first thing Emma registered when she woke was that she had somehow, miraculously, fallen asleep. The other thing was that she was once again alone in the bedroom for the second time that day.

After the hushed conversation in the hallway Regina had pulled her back into the bedroom where they’d both lain down, sandwiching Henry between the valley of their bodies, their legs entwined in a hopeless tangle of reassurance and comfort. She vaguely remembered the tips of Regina’s fingers skating across her cheek and forehead, along the curve of her jaw and around her chin, over and over again, repeating the same soothing trail until her eyes refused to remain open. The next thing she realized was that she was waking up.

“R’gina,” she mumbled, confused over how rested she felt. How long had she been asleep for? Her chest ached, swollen and uncomfortable so it had to have been longer than she’d been getting lately.

Climbing out of bed, Emma rubbed her face and headed out of the bedroom, taking note that it had grown dark since the last time she’d looked outside. She could hear faint frustrated voices from downstairs, the closer she got to them the more heated Regina sounded.

“I’m not all that concerned about the backlash from an arrogant penedjo like Albert Spencer, Marian, he’s a vile chauvinistic pig who has done nothing but demean women in the industry for years. If my tweets cause any of them a moment of turmoil it will have been worth it.”

Emma could hear Marian’s sigh and knew just from that that their friend would be shaking her head.

“But it’s _her_ career Regina. It’s her job. I know you’re mad-”

Regina scoffed and Emma paused, not exactly eavesdropping but not exactly not either. Her curiosity to hear Regina’s unrestrained thoughts too tempting turn up.

“That’s quite an understatement. I’m murderous. Do you know how terrifying it is to hear that your wife is missing only to find out the reason she felt the need to run was because someone preyed on the best parts of her? She made this incredible little person and now she’s being penalized for it! They made her feel like garbage Marian and for what? A few pounds?? For the sexappeal of some delusional twenty-something white boy who doesn’t understand that every curve she has is breathtaking?”

The sound of someone getting up from a couch could be heard and Emma shifted awkwardly, feeling like she shouldn’t have been listening to the private conversation after all. She wasn’t entirely sure what she felt but breathtaking certainly wasn’t it. She didn’t feel confident and sure like Regina sounded. She felt ashamed and uncomfortable and worried about the future of her job on Boston Memorial and what it could mean for future positions later.

“No one is saying you’re wrong.”

Another scoff sounded and Emma peeked into the room to see Regina sitting on the floor, her legs spread with Henry sprawled between them on a blanket. She looked the picture of domesticated life with a simple pair of leggings and an old shirt of Emma’s that had survived from her college days. The sight tugged at Emma’s heart.

How had she managed to earn this life? A wife who stole her clothes and loved her so much she’d fight for her honor in a profession where honor meant little if you weren’t a caucasian male. A son who was so perfect it made her cry regularly. As a kid growing up without a family of her own this life never seemed plausible. When climbing every fire escape in Hunts Point was her only avenue of escape, and yearning to get out lead to working hard, studying even harder, scraping together every dollar she earned with scholarships that afforded her a ticket to freedom across the country, away from the nowhere she was headed if she stayed.

In California it was warm and inviting and full of possibilities instead of cold and broken and suffocating. She struggled and pushed back against everything that said she would fail. And had it not been for a fluke meeting at the coffee shop she worked in during her freshman year at CalArts she’s sure that her life wouldn’t be anywhere near where it was today.

That was when a no named barista, exhausted from life and school and demoralized after yet another terrible audition, messed up the overly fancy order of a snarky child star that came attached to an industry savvy name. Regina had been rude. Emma even more so. And yet the next day the great Cora Mills daughter had returned, her dark eyes sharp and sure and tempting.

It wasn't long after the daily coffee stops turned into conversation that centered around commiseration over the stress of keeping up with school while chasing the dream and how terrible Emma was at making a decent cup of joe. From there they became friends, allies. Someone who could be trusted to be honest when two faced talent agents and producers spread just as much trash as they did praise.

And then it all changed with a cliche kiss at midnight on New Year's Eve after one too many glasses of bubbly champagne that tickled their noses and warmed their bellies at a party in the Hills that was more elegant than anything the then twenty year old Emma had ever seen. They’d fallen hot and heavy after that. All tongues and teeth and as Emma again looked in on her wife in the living room they’d decorated together she couldn’t help but struggle to understand how she’d managed to achieve this.

“No one but the gringos are saying you’re wrong,” Marian amended, bringing Emma back to the conversation. “I just don’t think engaging in a passive aggressive Twitter war is going to help Emma.”

Tired of hiding, Emma moved away from the wall and put her so called talent to use. She forced a yawn and called out tiredly, “R’gina?”

The living room fell silent for a minute then the rich sound of her wife’s voice answered. “In the living room nena.”

Emma rounded the corner with a weak smile, pretending to be shocked at the sight of Marian on the floor with her wife. “Oh, hey. When did you get here?”

Dark eyes gave her a curious once over before rolling dramatically. “How do you get any jobs,” Marian demanded, turning her attention down to Henry and softening her tone conspiratorially, “Your Momma has the worst acting face I’ve ever seen! Yes she does! She’s terrible! Umhmm! Tía needs to buy her a workshop pass huh mijito! She needs to take some more classes! Yes she does, yes she does!”

The flush that spread through Emma’s cheeks was instantaneous, she’d always been a terrible liar when it came to the two women on the floor. Ever since Marian stormed into Starbucks all those years ago demanding to know ‘how serious are you about my best friend’ Emma knew she’d never successfully get away with anything with the scrappy latina. With a rueful smile she moved further into the room, taking a seat behind Regina who shot her a look over her shoulder that was more amused than accusing. “I do decently enough, thank you! I’m not _that_ terrible. Don’t listen to her kid,” she added and reached around her wife to rub Henry’s rounded belly lovingly.

“How long have you been standing there,” Regina asked, leaning back into Emma’s embrace.

Emma pulled her hand back from Henry, curling it around Regina’s middle with a squeeze. She nuzzled her nose against the warm skin of her wife’s neck and pressed a kiss to that spot that turned Regina into mush if she did it enough. “Long enough to hear you’re being a keyboard warrior again. Do I want to know what you said?”

Regina shrugged her shoulders, effectively moving Emma from her pulse point. Instead of answering right away she devoted her attention to the alert little boy between her legs. Taking his onesie covered feet in her hands, she carefully moved his legs in a bicycle motion. “He’s been gassy,” she answered in lieu of the question, her eyes only for Henry.

“Regina,” Emma coaxed, resting her chin on her shoulder.

“Ay dios mio, you two are disgusting. I thought a baby would mean less this,” Marian griped with flick of her wrist. She pushed herself up from her place by Henry’s head to stand over the little family. “But I was clearly wrong. It’s gross for us who are perpetually single, just so you know, and really you may as well tell her what you did. It’s not like she won’t find out sooner or later. Besides, I’m sure that annoying little agent of hers is all up in a tizzy texting peaches right now, bouncing on the furniture as she types, yelling NO TWITTER.”

“Edna isn’t that bad,” Emma rebuffed, her attention still only for her wife. “Regina. Please...”

A long suffering sigh fell from Regina and for a moment she ignored her best friend and her pleading wife, choosing to lean down to talk to Henry who wriggled beneath her hands, his heavy breathing and grunts making her smile just as much as his wide captivated grey eyes did. “I make a few heated tweets directed at the misogynistic men who are being mean to your Momma and suddenly I’m the one in trouble for speaking my mind, not the fact that they’re insufferable old fools hell bent on degrading women to nothing more than sexualized objects on television. How is that fair, hmm?”

“You said _what_!?”

Regina pressed a kiss against Henry’s rounded cheek and chuckled at the involuntary open mouthed swipe she earned as a reward for her affections. She could feel Emma’s eyes fixated on her and it lessened the fluttery feelings of love her son stirred up. She straightened, turning enough to look back at her wife, and shrugged. “I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done yourself had it been me falling under scrutiny.”

Marian snorted. “Yeah, you only shot off some not so passive aggressive tweets about how old men in Hollywood need to get their heads out of their asses and realize that women are more than just their body image.”

“You didn’t. Regina,” Emma groaned and dropped her forehead against her wife’s shoulder, “Please tell me you took them down before anyone could see them.”

“Ooooh please, like she would ever do something like that,” Marian jumped in again before Regina could answer. “That’s not even the best part!”

“Do I even want to know,” Emma questioned, lifting her head up enough to see Marian’s face bright with amusement.

Regina, tired of being talked over, rubbed Emma’s thigh reassuringly. “It wasn’t as bad as she’s making it out to be. I simply stated my opinion on matters with a few people who chimed in. I never once said it was related to you or what happened while you were at work,” she hedged, her nose wrinkling a bit as she winced. “At least until Mary Margaret got involved and tagged Leopold asking if that’s why you left set early today.”

All color drained from Emma’s face. She was dead. That was it. Her job was over.

Marian whooped and laughed, clapping her hands. “It was _priceless_! I’ve never seen anyone's phone light up so fast. It was like one of those Christmas light shows.”

The loud noise of Marian clapping paired with her excited laughter startled Henry. His tiny bottom lip jutted out pathetically and his face scrunched with displeasure as he whined at both of his Mothers as though asking them to make the sudden scary noise stop. A pitiful wail fell from him and Regina shot a glare at her best friend. “Please refrain from scaring my son you heathen,” she scolded gently, scooping up her squirming boy with ease despite his upset. “Shhh, I know,” she agreed with every upset cry that left his little self, “She _is_ horrible, I know!”

“Oooooh mijito,” Marian cooed but didn’t move closer to the trio on the floor, “Don’t listen to her!! I’m didn’t mean to scare you, Tía’s sorry!”

Emma tuned everything they said out. She was too busy agonizing over the conversation that was no doubt happening between her bosses right now to care about her crying son. “Oh my god,” she moaned, folding into herself, the edges of a panic attack threatening to hit hard. “They’re going to let me go. I’m going to lose my job. They’re going to fire me!”

“They’re not going to fire you,” Regina soothed between bouncing Henry.

“They will! And then I’ll be labeled difficult to work with and no one will want to hire me! How will we afford the house? The car payments. My student loans- food! I don’t have any other talents! I don’t even think Starbucks will hire me back! I sucked as a barista. Oh my god we’ll have to move in with your mother,” Emma lamented, her mind spiraling in the worst way.

She could see it all happening so easily. First they’d miss a car payment, then another, and another. The mortgage payments would be next. The next thing they’d know a sign saying foreclosure would be posted on their front door. Regina would hate her because of her inability to provide for them and Cora Mills would purse her lips and demand her daughter divorce her on the spot. She’d lose Henry in the custody battle. She’d end up living under a bridge.

Emma pulled away from Regina and their crying son, needing to pace- to move, to do anything but sit while the dream life she had been thinking about just moments before burst into flames.

Marian snickered, not quite as amused as she’d been to tell the tales of Regina’s internet cursaide. “Well that digressed quickly.”

“Shut up Marian,” Regina snapped but her words lacked the heat they normally held. Her pensive gaze followed Emma’s path around the room, watching every flash of fear and upset that danced across her pale features. Remorse twisted her gut, maybe she’d been wrong to engage with Leopold. She thought she’d been helping. Regina only wanted to help.

Regina, eyes still only for Emma, quietly spoke, “Marian will you go get the pizza from the kitchen please? We need a moment.”

Silently Marian nodded and left, leaving Emma and Regina with a still whimpering Henry.

“Emma,” Regina began, carefully standing up from the floor, her arms never stopping the gentle bouncing of their son. “Talk to me.”

Emma whirled around to face her, slender fingers strung tightly through her golden locks out of necessity to hold onto something, anything. “This could be so bad Regina. I know you were only trying to help, to defend me, I know you said you’d handle this but babe when you said that I thought you meant privately calling Gold or Spencer. Maybe getting your mom to do it because she’s scary. Not blasting this all over the interwebs for everyone to read.”

Regina sighed and moved to the not so small swing beside the couch where she placed a grizzly Henry, securely strapping him in and setting the speed to match her own rocking. “I tried that Emma.”

That stopped Emma mid step, her frown only growing as she rounded on Regina once more. “You did?”

“Yes,” came the frustrated retort. Regina sighed again and closed her eyes to remind herself that getting upset with Emma was not the point of this. Opening her eyes, she started again, calmly this time. “I called Carlisle, producer to producer. I explained why such an action would be reprehensible in light of everything happening in the media right now. And when that had no effect I even tried to reason with him as your wife. He wouldn’t listen. They are determined to hold you to your outdated contract.”

Emma watched her move closer, dread pooling in her stomach as Regina continued.

“I know I shouldn’t have gone off like I did on Twitter. And I know that it will only make matters worse for you and I’m truly sorry about that Emma but I couldn’t stay quiet about it,” sincerity flooded her every word and Emma believed her. Believed that she had tried and was frustrated in a way that only a wife could be and she acted on that frustration. Plain and simple. “It isn’t okay to put you or countless other women under so much scrutiny that it has you physically harming yourselves to live up to the image they want. I’m tired of letting egotistical old men dictate what we do or how we look on screen. I refuse to watch you run yourself into the ground to appease the likes of Albert Spencer and Carlisle Gold! It’s callous and inhumane and I can’t stay silent about it, I won’t.”

Regina’s hands carefully slid up Emma’s forearms, traveling their length until she was able to curl her fingers between Emma’s and gently disentangle them from her hair, pausing their descent so that she could cup both of their hands against pale cheeks. “You mean too much to me to allow someone to belittle you over something so asinine as weight and if that means you lose this particular job then so be it because how worth it is it to remain in a position that demeans you when there are so many up and coming women production teams who understand the struggle and are diligently working to change everything we know about the industry.”

It wasn’t the first time that Emma had heard Regina passionately speak about something, not by a long shot, but it still floored her when it was directed at her and not in the ‘the toilet paper doesn’t go that way’ sort of capacity. Emotion tightened her throat and by extension her fingers tightened against her wife’s.

“I’m scared,” she rasped thickly, simply, even though it wasn’t anywhere near simple and Regina knew that. She knew of her fears of failure and how it terrified her to think that she would lose everything and be forced to go back to Hunts Point and go back to being the lost girl alone on the streets with nothing to live for.

Not missing a beat Regina leaned in, pressing her forehead against Emma’s as tears fell against their clasped hands, this time hormones having nothing to do with response. “I won’t ever let you fall Emma Swan-Mills. I will be here, with you, no matter what you do be that acting or not. You are wanted right here and that won’t ever change. Not even with your terrible coffee making skills,” she added with a lilt of teasing to her tone despite the accuracy of her last statement.

The light jab had the desired effect, causing Emma to chuckle a watery laugh. “You sure about that?”

“We’ll buy a Keurig,” Regina tried to joke, her own resolve wavering at the sound of Emma’s tears. “I love you, you sweet, incredible idiot. Your worth isn’t measured by this. Any of it. Not to me. Please try to remember that.”

Warmth spread through Emma’s chest and she nodded, dropping their hands in favor of slipping her arms around her wife and pulling her in. She needed Regina closer more than she needed to breathe and she was only satisfied when there wasn’t an inch of space between their bodies. Turning her head, Emma pressed a kiss to the patch of skin that lead up to Regina’s ear and breathed, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I freaked out. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Regina husked, tears of her own threatening to over take her.

“Oh Jesus Christ, I can’t leave you idiots alone for two minutes! No scarring my godson with your futile attempts to give him a sibling, please,” Marian cried from the doorway in mock outrage, a pizza box, two wine glasses and a bottle of pilfered white under her arm.

Emma couldn’t help but laugh at the groan that left her wife. “Along with that Keurig we’re getting can we also get her a collar with a bell?”

“Absolutely,” Regina enthused, pulling away from Emma enough to press a pointed kiss to her lips, leveling her with a look that made it clear she meant what she’d said before they were interrupted. Emma nodded her head sheepishly and loosened her hold around her waist, releasing Regina to turn around to face Marian expectantly. “Did you hear everything you wanted? Was that to your satisfaction?”

Marian shrugged and made her way into the living room swaying her hips dramatically. “Eh, I’d give you a 7.5 for the dismount, but the finish was a solid 9. You’re so loving. It’s disturbing in that adorable ‘I wish your papi could see it’ kind of way because he’d have been all over that with pride. His little reinita finally following her heart,” she practically sang while rolling her eyes good naturedly, a loving grin flashing brightly as she set down the pizza box and wine glasses on the coffee table. “But let’s be real, I didn’t drive all the way to Ktown to get peaches her favorite pizza for this little ‘make Emma feel better’ movie night you invited me to only to have us not eat this artery clogging masterpiece. So for the sake of our family and friendship, can we please eat now? I’m starving.”

“I don’t know why I still speak to you.” Regina pinched the bridge of her nose while Emma laughed, her hand finding the small of Regina’s back to guide her over to the couch.

“Family is forever bitch,” Marian grinned, holding out a freshly filled glass of wine to her bestie. “Sucks when your cousin becomes your best friend huh?”

Emma flopped down on the couch, ready to forget the stress of why they’re having a movie night in favor of what she can only guess is a calabrese pizza from her favorite little hole in the wall in Korea Town. “I wouldn’t know, that’s all you babe,” she joked with a pat to Regina’s backside.

Marian scoffed and swatted at the blonde. “Excuse me, by marriage I’m also your cousin so ouch. I’ll remember that when your depressed self wants pizza.”

“Enough children,” Regina chuckled and took her seat beside Emma, curling into her side with a sip of her wine. “Just turn on the television Marian.”

“Just turn on the television Marian,” the feisty woman snarked back but dutifully grabbed the remote to switch the tv on, maneuvering to the remote with the ease of someone who’s had many a movie night in the Swan Mills home. “Do we really have to watch this though? I mean, I know this is an all peaches night but… Really,” Marian whined with a look over her shoulder at Regina.

“What are we watching?” Emma pipped up excitedly, reaching forward, careful not to jostle Regina much in her pursuit of a slice of the best pizza in the world.

Regina ignored Emma’s expectant look. “Put the movie on Marian,” she ordered darkly, a smirk curling her lips against the rim of her wine glass. Sure this was all for Emma but it didn’t hurt that it would slightly annoy her mouthy cousin some.

The screen filled with the image of Optimus Prime as Marian regretfully followed through with the order she was given, grumbling about how stupid the movie was and by extension how dumb Emma was for liking it so much.

Emma, mid bite of pie, gasped and choked, causing Regina to gently pat her back when she leaned forward in her glee. “SERIOUSLY!?!?!”

“She says with such surprise,” Regina teased, sneaking a bite of Emma’s pizza. “We wanted to help you feel better nena.”

Marian flopped down on the other side of Regina, taking pleasure in the look it earned her for joggling the couple. “Correction, I wanted to make you feel better by offering to take you to egg certain idiots houses but your wife said that you’d enjoy this more but I’m still not entirely sold on that so the offer is there should you change your mind.”

A genuine laugh fell from Emma’s lips and she nodded at Marian, “I’ll keep that in mind thanks. But honestly? This is pretty great too. She never lets me watch this,” she teased, nudging Regina affectionately, happy to feel her settle back into her side. Holding her pizza out to her wife, Emma smiled meaningfully. “Thank you.”

“Well I’m letting you watch it now,” Regina reasoned and took another bite of the offered pizza with a raised eyebrow. “Now hush,” she mumbled around her bite, “And eat your food while it’s still warm and Henry is still quiet.”

“Yes ma’am,” Emma grinned, basking in the moment with her family- _her_ family. The people who loved her enough to come together to make her feel better after a hard day. It made her cheeks warm and if she snuggled in closer to Regina in her overwhelmed feeling of love she had for the women in the room the brunette never let on, at least not with her words.

Pressing a kiss against her wife’s temple, Regina settled in to watch the nauseating movie Emma adored.

Two slices of pizza and one feeding of a tiny dictator in Regina’s phone broke the comfortable silence that had settled around them.

“I’m a bitch!! I’m a mother,” it sang and Regina groaned. There was only one person she’d assigned that particular tone to and if her mother knew that’s what happened every time she called she’d definitely get an earful. She rolled her eyes and pushed up from her comfortable place leaned against her wife, her hand brushing a lingering graze against Emma’s cheek lovingly. “I’ll make it quick, don’t pause it on my account.”

“And let you miss out on this stellar movie,” Marian sassed around a bite of pizza.

Regina shot a pointed glare at Marian and answered her cell, “Mande?”  

Even from her distance Emma could hear Cora’s quick paced reprimand, though what she was upset about Emma wasn’t sure. It could be the way Regina answered the phone, the tweet war she’d gotten into or because the santa ana’s were making a mess of her lawn again. But when Regina’s eyes narrowed and her stony expression returned, Emma guessed it was the tweets.

“Aye! No voy a disculparme!” Holding up a hand, Regina excused herself from the living room, quick paced spanish taking over in her rising anger.

Definitely the tweets.

Poking at her pizza half heartedly, Emma tried to focus on the movie but mostly her ears were trained on the faint voice of her wife that she could make out when her temper flared. There were long pauses and she was sure she’d heard more than a few pinches and cabrons thrown about but if they were directed at her bosses or mother in law she really couldn’t be sure.

“Don’t look so worried peaches,” Marian said, drawing her attention back from the doorway. “She can handle Cora. Now eat your damn pizza and watch the stupid movie no one is enjoying but you.”

Emma didn’t feel any better but she made an effort to play it off, faking affronted. “Transformers isn’t stupid. It’s a revolutionary cinematic experience for the masses!”

Marian rolled her eyes and had Henry not been so close she’d have chucked a throw pillow at her. “Si estas bien pendeja,” she muttered, rolling her eyes for the millionth time that night.

“Hey! I know what that means,” Emma said indignantly, the grin in her tone making her sound even less upset about being called a fucking idiot than she was. “Stop swearing around the baby.”

“Shut up, you’re like twelve,” Marian snapped back, laughing.

And Emma just laughed because what could she say to that?

 

* * *

 

The conversation with Cora hadn’t actually been quick like Regina had promised. It extended long after Marian called it a night and Emma had retreated upstairs with Henry for a feed and some sleep. And for as angry as she was over having missed the movie night she’d put together for Emma the call with her mother had actually been… good.

After over sixty six years of being either in front of the screen, behind the camera, or in the writer's chair, Cora Mills had been there for it all. She’d seen the darker sides of Hollywood as a young starlet, when tears and accusations were faced with threats of slander between producers. She’d learned to navigate the game of quid pro quo, where the whispers of Tippi Hedren and Maureen O’Hara buzzed in her ears telling her to not let them get her down, and when she’d become pregnant with her eldest she’d faced much of the same ridicule as her daughter in law, if not more so.

It had hardened Cora. Regina had always wondered why her Mother was so cold, so calculating, and when she had expressed interest in acting as a young girl she’d watched the wary acceptance that had fallen over her Mother. That was when Cora had shifted her focus. Steadily edging herself into a position behind the camera rather than in front of it. Back then it felt like a grab for power. Another way to keep her under the ever watchful eye of Cora.

But now, now Regina understood. It wasn’t about control at all. It was about safety. About keeping her out of the reach of men like Weinstein and Spacey and the numerous others who abused their positions of power. It was to ensure that Regina never knew what it felt like to be cornered in a hotel suite, grabbed while being rigged up, or worse. Like the things Cora'd had to endure over the years.

Cora was keeping her safe by becoming a silent support who used her position of power to help not only herself but many women around her. Snatching them away from the seedy underbelly that Hollywood didn't talk about and through hard work and tough love she cultivated them into talented actresses, writers, and producers until she’d become a media mogul in her own right with The Miller’s Daughter production company.

The more her Mother shared the more Regina’s youth made sense. The way certain roles would be deemed below her after certain actors or directors involvements were announced. How at smarmy galas she and Zelena were never to leave Cora’s side, and how when Regina had shifted her focus from technical acting to film her sophomore year at CalArts Cora hadn’t batted an eyelash, only continued to push her to be the best she could be.

It hurt Regina to think of her mother being apart of the me too movement and she hated that this was what molded her Mother into the hard won woman she was. The kind of woman that ruled with an iron fist.

“You’ll come to the office tomorrow, bring Emma. I’d like to discuss this further,” Cora had commanded and Regina had agreed immediately, ready to comply to anything Cora wanted after the tale she’d spun after initially snapping at Regina for engaging in such lowered form of conduct on a public forum.

The conversation had left Regina awake for most of the night thinking and rethinking everything she'd thought she'd known about her life, about her Mother, about Emma. What was there to discuss further? Emma was under contract. Even Regina knew that meant there wasn’t much wiggle room there.

Her stomach gnawed at itself, twisting and turning into knots wondering how much damage she’d caused to Emma’s position at work because of a stupid heat of the moment outburst.

The numbers on the clock climbed higher and more than once she pulled herself from bed to walk laps around the nursery, a grumpy Henry grumbling against her shoulder while Emma slept. The senseless pacing being penance for her behavior or maybe it was just guilt. Either way she did her laps and waited, watching the sky shift from black to grey to the soft blue of a new day.

She was still sitting in the nursery, a sleeping Henry contently snuggled under her chin when Emma’s voice brought her out of her sightless staring at the sunrise.

“Spencer called, he said that the team doesn’t want me to come in today or tomorrow. They have things they need to discuss.”

Regina sighed. She’d been afraid of that. “Emma...”

“Don’t.”

“But Emma,” she tried anyway. “I truly am sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Regina whispered into the quiet of the room, glad when Emma came into her line of sight and she finally looked less haggard. The dark circles under her eyes lighter than the day before.

She watched her grab one of the stuffed toys from the changing table and hug it to her chest, her face lacking the abject worry from last night. “Don’t apologize Regina, I’m not upset. Well, not at you anyway.”

“It still doesn’t make me feel any less guilty,” Regina confessed, her dark eyes tracing the triangles on the rug below her bare feet until they looked more like trees than triangles.

Emma shifted, not sure what to say. She was scared to be fired, it was true, but she also didn’t find it fair to be ostracized the way she had been since she’d told the showrunners that she was expecting.

But instead of saying any of that she shrugged, snuggling her nose into the plush smiling cloud, “At least this means I don’t have to ditch out of work on my lunch to go see Ursula for my six week check up tomorrow.”

“Small positives I suppose,” Regina agreed, distracted.

“Hey,” Emma said, pushing away from the changing table so that she could move closer to the rocking chair. Normally she’d squat down to be eye level with her wife but given how messed up things down there had gotten not that long ago during the birth of the tiny boy nestled against Regina's chest she instead settled for nudging their toes together, wiggling her own bare tootsies against Regina's fiery red polished ones playfully. “I swear, I’m not mad. I love that you fought for me. I really do. And I don’t care what happens.”

That made Regina look up from counting triangle-trees, a eyebrow raised disbelievingly. “Oh really?”

A smile quirked Emma’s lips into a lopsided grin. “Okay, maybe I mind but not the way that you’re thinking. Don’t get me wrong I love my character. I enjoy most of the cast and the crew but honestly if I could just move on I would be okay too. I’m just worried about the being fired part and that has more to do with me than what you did. It _is_ my contract I’ve been in violation of for almost a year. You’re just a crazy lady with a smartphone. This one is on me not you babe.”

Regina scoffed, too loudly, and for a second everyone but Henry froze.

Viridian met mahogany in silent amusement. This was their life. Constantly worried about waking a baby. When it was clear he wouldn’t be nodding back off, Regina handed him up to Emma, relinquishing her seat in favor of stretching her legs by the window.

“My Mother wants to see us later,” she stated, no frills to the bomb she dropped. She didn’t even look back at her wife until Henry’s hiccuped cry bounced off the cheerily painted walls.

Emma sat stalk still, her hand stopped mid unclasping of her nursing bra. “Uh, what? Why does she want to see us? It’s not like I’m on her roster,” she protested weakly, hurrying to feed their angry fascist dictator.

Shrugging, Regina moved back to where Emma and Henry sat, the sounds of his grunted gulps too strong to keep her away for long. She sank down to the floor, her hand finding his little covered foot easily against Emma’s arm. “Honestly I’m not sure but I think it wouldn’t hurt to see what she says. Maybe she’ll know how to get you released from your contract, she does know a lot of important people.”

“She _is_ an important person Regina,” Emma amended with a pointed look that hinted at her apprehension. “What if she’s just calling us in to tell you to ditch me before the fire gets too hot?”

Another scoff ripped from Regina’s throat and if she weren’t rubbing her thumb along the length of Henry’s foot she’d have slapped the expanse of pale thigh on display beside her. “You’re an idiot.”

“That’s not reassuring at all babe.”

Regina rolled her eyes and stood back up, heading for the door. “We’re leaving at nine,” she called over her shoulder, smirking a little at the whine that sounded behind her.

 

* * *

 

Showered, dressed and on time for the first time since becoming a threesome, they sat. Uncomfortable and huddled together in a small group in the immaculate lobby of TMD’s main office, waiting under the stern eye of Cora’s secretary Drizella.

Emma was poised to fiddle with Henry’s stroller cover for the seventh time in the last two minutes but Regina’s hand shot out to stop her from successfully moving the blanket back again, the nervousness of her wife finally getting to her. “You need to relax. He’s fine.”

From behind the desk a snicker sounded.

Emma glared at the younger woman, lowering her voice so only Regina could hear her in the otherwise quiet room. “Sorry, she’s making me antsy. Why does she keep watching us like that? Does she expect us to pick up the ficus and make a run for it or something? Jesus.”

Regina snorted, casting a glance first at Drizella then at one of the potted plants that dotted the tastefully bare room. “Well, it _is_ a nice bush.”

“Oh, my god. You did not just say that,” Emma laughed, a bit of her nervousness melting away in light of her thirteen year old humor.

Lifting a perfectly plucked brow, Regina smirked, “Say what? Bush? Do you find that funny Ms. Swan? Talking about the perfectly trimmed bush at the apex of that corner?” Another snicker from Emma made her chuckle, a smile pulling at her crimson coated lips. “Marian’s right. You are twelve.”

Emma laughed again, her hand coming up to cover her mouth for fear of startling Henry or drawing more of the snotty brunette’s attention, but the sound of the door behind the reception desk opening stopped her giggles at once.

“That will be quite enough girls.” Cora’s dark eyes darted between her daughter and daughter in law, an air of resigned acceptance displayed plainly on her pinched lips. “Please collect yourselves and when you’re ready to act like the adults you are come inside.”

Regina bit her lip to keep herself from laughing when Emma’s hand came down against her thigh in a gentle but firm backhanded slap. “After six years you’d think she’d stop hating me!” She hissed between her teeth, her sea green eyes full of apprehension.

Standing from her chair, Regina waited for Emma to follow suit before she reached up, catching her by the chin and pulling down so she could look her in the eye. “Breathe nena, it’s going to be alright. She wants to help. I promise. Don’t take her bark for her bite.”

“Can I take your bite instead?” Emma attempted to joke but it came out more pained than playful.

Regina chuckled and pushed her away, her eyes rolling lightly. “Go, you idiot,” she said and moved behind the stroller, taking the lead into her mother’s office. “Mother,” she greeted, pushing Henry up beside the desk that Cora stood behind. “You’re looking well.”

“As are you darling, albeit a little worn down but that is to be expected,” Cora indulged, moving from around her desk to pull back the blanket that covered Henry’s car seat. “Are you trying to give the boy heat stroke Regina? He’ll swelter to death under all of that nonsense.”

Emma’s eyes widened and shot to Regina, silently asking if that was true. Regina subtly shook her head and reached for her hand, squeezing it reassuringly as she went on nonplussed. “Hardly Mother. There were photographers following us. You know how much I loathe the idea of them snapping pictures of him like he’s nothing more than tabloid fodder.”

“Mmm, I’ll have Drizella send for Mr. Banner. He has such a way of getting those swine to leave the premises with the slightest flare of his anger. It’s truly a talent. Much better than those useless imbeciles at the LAPD.”

Without waiting for permission, Cora effortlessly unclipped her grandson from his carseat and lifted him into her arms, and for a moment the hard exterior she was known for fell. The hardness melted from around her lips and her moca eyes softened just a bit. She whispered something to him, something warm and lilting that Emma couldn’t understand, something that didn’t sound like the heated anger she usually spewed when using her native tongue she pretended not to know.

“Thank you Mother,” Regina nodded and nudged her wife to take a seat in one of the two lowly chairs in front of the large imposing desk that kept them and her Mother apart.

“Of course dear. Now,” Cora said, the shift from maternal to business was obvious. Back was the calculating look as she let her eyes drift over Emma, and when she sat down in the high backed chair behind her desk she looked just as intimidating to the blonde as she did when she wasn’t cradling her little boy. “I hear you’ve been out of compliance with your contract,” she started, flipping one handedly through the papers in front of her. “I took the liberty of contacting your agent, she faxed me a copy of your contract to look through for myself. Did you not think to have someone negotiate the terms of your employment before you agreed to take the role?”

Emma swallowed nervously. “Uh, I did. Well, I thought I did. When I got this job I was still with Aurora Desrosiers’ agency. She kind of slept on the job more than agenting… and Spencer said it was a standard contract they were giving everyone on the project. I didn’t really think the show would go on for as long as it has or that in a few years a weight fluctuation clause would be something to be concerned about, ya know?”

“Which is precisely why you get yourself a credible agent to begin with Ms. Swan." 

It wasn’t said with derision. Not like when Gold or Spencer purposely refused to acknowledge that she was more than just herself. That she was a team, a promised commitment to stick it out through good times and bad and every freaking episode of Pretty Little Liars Regina forced her to watch.

No, this Ms. Swan was like Regina when she was mad about things that _mattered_.

Cora went on, her lips pinched in exasperation. "They’re meant to think of these things  _for_ you. Have you listened to nothing I have told the both of you over the years? Good representation matters. How can I be more clear on that point?”

“I know. I’m sorry. That’s why I changed agencies,” Emma swore, hoping the whine didn’t sound as fervent to Cora as it did to her own ears. She’d left Aurora not long after she’d landed her role on Boston Memorial and found a home with No Capes Incorporated. Sure Edna was a bit eccentric, and at times could be a bit abusive with a rolled up newspaper, but she knew her stuff and had been good for Emma since signing. “I didn’t know to second guess the person who was suppose to be handling my contracts. I do now. I know to sit down with Regina and go over it all. I was just stupid and excited because this was a lead and I’d never been a lead in anything. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Clearly,” was all she got back in response.

Regina sighed and tapped her blunt nails against the arm of her chair. “Be reasonable Mother. It doesn’t matter what made her sign then, what matters is how to get her out of it now without discrediting her as an actress or bankrupting us for millions.”

The room went silent apart from Henry’s breathy grumbles.

That was the rub. How much would this end up costing them should the studio side with the showrunners and agree that the breach of her contract was worth pursuing legally? In previous decades actors and actresses alike had been taken for millions strictly on hearsay of agreement to work. Here Emma was with a contract with her signature agreeing to work within these terms and conditions. That was basically a nail in her coffin in her mind.

“Yes, well, we aren’t sure that that is the case just yet. I assume you’ve been asked to not return to set?” Cora stated more than asked, her speculative gaze again returning to Emma.

Emma nodded and slumped in her seat. “Yeah for the next two days. Albert said they needed to discuss things.”

“Mmm,” Cora breathed, deep in thought. “With the stunt you pulled disappearing from set yesterday I’m surprised it wasn’t for longer or that they didn’t just fire you on the spot.” Ignoring Emma’s wince, she stood up and carefully laid Henry back into his carseat, ignoring his squawk of complain. “You are not to do that again, is that clear? I will take your contract to my lawyer and let her have a look at it and discuss what legal options we have.”

Regina nodded and stood, taking the lead for her wife who again wore a mask of discouragement, like she’d already weighed the odds and decided she’d lost before they’d even started. “Thank you Mother.”

“Anything for you darling. Now go, I have a meeting to attend and I think my grandson is ready to return home. I’ll be in touch.”

It was a dismissal as subtle as a gun but neither woman minded as they headed out of the room with a fussy Henry wailing his protests to being back in his carseat from inside the stroller.

Once they were outside, away from Cora and the ever watchful stare of Drizella and everyone else who smiled false smiles and waved them off, Regina paused beside her car. “Hey, look at me.”

“Don’t Regina. I don’t want a pep talk,” Emma sighed and clicked Henry’s car seat into place after buckling him into his seat, vainly trying to get him to take a pacifier that only seemed to further piss the beet red boy off more.

At first Regina wanted to snap at her, to throw back at Emma that she was only trying to be supportive and help her, but after eight years of friendship she’d grown use to this pattern Emma fell into. The quiet resignation when things got too hard, too overwhelming. The shutdown she’d fall into, choosing to be alone and sulk rather than hash it all out.

She needed time to sift through the emotions and thoughts that plagued her until she was ready to come and talk about it rationally, and while that wasn’t how Regina handled things she did at least respect her wife to let her deal with her inner turmoil in the way she saw fit.

Sighing, Regina held out her hand expectantly, wiping her face clean of upset when Emma finally looked back at her from half way inside the car. “I was only going to say I’m driving.”

Emma straightened up, giving up on trying to comfort Henry for the time being with a look that clearly didn’t believe the woman in front of her. “Liar,” she said but dug the keys from her pocket regardless and handed them over. “I just want to go home.”

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day was quiet.

They were always close in vicinity, sharing a couch, sitting at the dinner table, laying in bed, but never once was the tension in the room addressed. By the next morning Regina was ready to explode. She could be understanding for only so long.

To her this was simple. This wasn’t Emma’s fault and clearly she shouldn’t beat herself up like it was, but the blonde had other ideas on that front and it was maddening. How could Emma not see that it didn’t matter to her if this ended with a lawsuit they would probably lose? They were right. This whole situation was wrong and stupid and no courtroom would change that in her mind, money be damned.

She continued to stew in her surmounting frustration all through her shower later that morning after a silent cup of coffee with her wife, her annoyance growing with each passing second.

Regina was so lost in her spiral of anger that mostly centered around envisioning Albert Spencer and Carlisle Gold tied to a burning stake that she didn’t hear or see her wife walk by the frosted glass of their shower until the door clicked open and in slipped the woman she would gladly commit murder for.

“Um, I hope this is alright,” Emma began quietly, the worn down look having returned to her eyes over the course of the night. “I can get out if you want. I just- I wanted to apologize for yesterday,” she trailed off and looked at the water that swirled around their feet.

Her arms were folded across her chest and her shoulders curled protectively so that she could also hide part of her stomach that still held softness and the faint pocking of stretch marks that hadn’t quite acclimated to not having a fiercely active baby boy pressed against them, stretching the milky white fissures to near bursting. She seemed smaller than normal, hiding the 'flaws' she’d had thrown back in her face.

It made Regina’s anger rebound and fade all at once. She shook her head and reached out for Emma, waiting until her wife looked up long enough to see that she was wanted. “There’s nothing to apologize for Emma. Not from you. Come here nena.”

“I know you think that,” Emma tried but was silenced by a kiss, slow and sure and full of everything that made her heart beat wildly against her chest when it was done. She didn’t understand how Regina could just accept it all like that. Like it was nothing. Easy. “You’re kind of amazing, did you know that Mills?”

Regina chuckled and took comfort in the easy slip of their wet bodies against one another. “You say that with such surprise still. I’d have thought you’d have learned that years ago.”

A low rumble of a laugh rippled through Emma’s chest. “You know what I mean. Of course I’ve always known you’re amazing- well, eventually,” she teased between a pointedly placed kiss that made Regina’s breath hitch. Emma continued to suck and nip at the warm skin that thrummed under her lips, listening to each gasp and heavy exhale like it was all she needed to live through another minute of this life.

“Are… Are you trying to distract me?”

Emma snickered, licking the path up Regina’s neck and ending it with a kiss just below her jaw. “No,” she breathed and looked into the lust blown eyes she never grew tired of staring into. “How are you so okay with this? They could take us for millions. Millions we don’t have.”

Shaking her head, Regina leaned forward to press her forehead against Emma’s, her fingers stroking along the rounded curves of her hips with nothing short of reverence. “Then they do. I don’t care because this, right here,” she breathed, punctuating her words with a gentle squeeze to Emma’s flesh, “Is all I need. The money, the house, the cars… They mean nothing. All I want is you Emma. Can’t you see that?”

The burn of tears started at the backs of Emma’s eyes but she pushed it away. She wouldn’t waste a moment crying, not here, not now. Not when her hands could trail the length of Regina’s back, cupping her smooth ass and pull her closer until everything was a mess of lips and tongue and cold shower tiles pressed against overheated skin.

Every gasp and moan shot directly to Emma’s center but it felt so different, so invasive she pushed it away too, ignoring the feeling in favor of drawing this out for Regina. Blindly reaching for the water, she shut it off and reluctantly pulled back. “We don’t have a lot of time, come on,” she husked, finding the hand Regina held against the small of her back.

“Are you sure? I mean I don’t want to stop, not at all, but I don’t want to make you do something you're not ready for Emma. Ursula should look at you before we-” Regina couldn’t think. Not when Emma pulled her by the hand out of the shower and through the bathroom into their bedroom. Not when her still soaked body was pushed back into the bed and the soft silky bedding clung to her skin in a way that made her body buzz all the more. “Ne-”

“Shhhhh,” Emma whispered, pressing a kiss against her lips to silence her. “I may not be ready yet but that doesn’t mean I’m not ready for _you_ ,” she explained, trailing lingering kisses along soft olive skin, paying homage to the delicate slopes of Regina’s collarbones with the tip of her tongue. “I’ve missed this,” she confessed, her hand finding its way to cup a breast while her tongue trailed between them, circling up to suck the hardened nub she found there between her lips, greedily pulling the dusky mound in further.

Regina’s coherent thoughts vanished, leaving behind a body the bowed and arched into each touch, begging for more, while sounds she hadn’t made in weeks poured from her parted lips.

“Aaaaah,” Regina moaned, high and breathy and something that sounded far too much like something from a porno to be coming from her but she didn’t care. She didn’t care all all. Her body pushed into her wife’s with need and want and love and god damn it if this feeling wouldn’t burn her alive if Emma didn’t do something about it soon.

The pulse between her thighs raced and demanded attention from the knee that had slowly found its way up against her center. “Emmaaa-”

It was a plea.

It was a command.

It made Emma laugh against the soft flesh of the breast she held captive between her teeth, biting down enough to leave a mark. “No patience,” she teased but complied, moving down the length of Regina’s body with kiss after promising kiss until her nose brushed reverently against the dip of her hip.

“It’s been awhile, I can’t hold it back,” Regina breathlessly whined, her legs spreading wide and welcomingly with the barest of touches from Emma’s confident hands. Her eyes shut and her fists clenched against the comforter. She could feel the warmth of Emma’s breath against her and it made the anticipation too much.

This was heaven and hell rolled into one and all Regina wanted was friction because it had been too long and she didn’t want to wait anymore. And then she didn’t have to. The warmth of Emma’s tongue stroked the length of her slit and her body jerked up to vainly try and keep that sensation there. No more teasing. Just release.

Emma’s chuckle vibrated through Regina’s core and if it weren’t for Emma’s arms that wound around her thighs to keep her in place she’d have shameless rubbed her soaked, throbbing center against Emma’s face to get the point across.

Taking the hint, Emma traced the tip of her tongue along the outside of Regina’s entrance once, then twice, before pushing in as far as she could go, firming her tongue up as she lapped and sucked and swiped. The breathless moans above her encouraged her to push harder, deeper.

Emma shifted her weight, moving to free one arm from its iron hold on Regina’s thigh and when she slowly curled her tongue up to her pulsating clit she thrust two fingers into Regina’s heat that earned her an impassioned cry from above.

“Nnuuugghhh, m-more,” Regina begged, barely able to keep up with breathing and speaking and holding on.

Two fingers became three, stretching and scissoring against the warm walls that held her snugly inside her wife. Emma sucked at Regina’s clit, swirling her tongue against it in time with her thrusts. Emma wanted to prolong things, to pull away and make her wife plead for release again but they were on limited time, and as much as she hated to rush this she did. She pushed harder, sinking her fingers in deep and twisting with each retraction.

Her appetite was ferocious as she sucked and lapped at Regina's clit relentlessly, she could feel that her wife was close and when she curled her fingers, brushing pointedly against ribbed flesh, she felt her clench, a soft release of dampness seeping warm against her palm a second before Regina arched away from the bed, her face contorted in silent pleasure that stole her breath away.

Emma coaxed her through her orgasm, stroking and licking up the juices that spilled from around her fingers until Regina choked, swatting at her head in a silent signal to stop.

“E-enough, please,” Regina panted. "Come here," she begged in the softest of rasps, holding out an arm to show Emma just where she wanted her, her breath still ragged and heavy.

“Yes ma’am,” Emma snickered, pressing one last kiss against Regina’s sensitive folds before ascended her wife’s body with just as much reverence as she’d put in on her way down. She loved the salty sheen that prickled the olive skin beneath her lips. It was always such a thrill to know that she’d done that. She’d made her feel that undone.

Regina sighed, trying to catch her breath and curled against Emma, stealing a kiss that no longer held the heat they'd shared when they entered the bedroom. “That was…”

“Long overdue,” Emma cut her off around another promising kiss. “It won’t be so long between next time, promise.” Her fingers skimmed along the side of Regina’s breast absently, watching the rush of what they’d done further relax the woman she laid against. “If we didn’t need to leave soon I’d be all about round two.”

A hearty laugh spilled from Regina and she couldn’t hold back the slew of kisses she pressed against Emma’s lips and cheeks and nose. “You’re ridiculous. One is perfectly enough for now.” And as reluctant as she was to end the moment she sighed and sat up, rubbing her hand along Emma’s bare stomach tenderly. “We should shower. Really shower this time. We need to get you to your appointment Mrs.”

Emma mock saluted much to Regina’s enjoyment. “Yes ma’am. No touching. Just showering. Promise.”

 

* * *

 

Only she didn’t keep her promise.

At all.

They were late. Way late. The ‘why did I let you corner me’ kind of late that made Regina flush with embarrassment as she walked into the Queens of Midwifery suite half an hour into their appointment time.

“Stop grinning like that,” she barked at Emma under her breath, walking beside her through the scentsy smelling hall to the last room on the left where their midwife worked.

Emma laughed. Hard. The shit eating grin she wore only grew in size as she strolled cockily into Ursula’s office. The dimly lit room looked more like an invitingly homey living room than a place where tiny humans came into being, though a small medical bed shoved into the far corner as an afterthought did suggest this was a serious practice at the very least.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite two new mommies! I was starting to think you stood me up,” Ursula teased and stood to pull each of them into a tight hug.

“Yeah, Regina was having a hard time getting out of the bathroom,” Emma grinned, biting her lip to keep back another laugh at the wide eyed look of mortified death her wife shot in her direction. “Sorry for taking so long,” she added and sat Henry’s carseat on the floor beside the couch before taking a seat herself.

She was totally going to hear about that comment in the car but the flush of pink that saturated Regina’s cheeks was too beautiful to feel much regret about it.

“No worries, no worries. I know how it is. It’s a whole lifestyle change trying to take care of two kids instead of one,” Ursula smirked and watched Emma’s face register what she’d said. “It can be tricky getting them both ready and out the door on time.”

Regina smirked and took a seat beside her wife primly, looking pleased to have the midwife on her side. “You have no idea.”

Emma scoffed but her stormy eyes twinkled with the amusement she felt. They’d needed this morning. She’d need it. She’d needed to remember what it felt like to be grounded and secure in her skin. Every touch and kiss, stroke and caress. It healed those wounds that Gold had poured salt into, maybe not entirely but enough that Emma could remember to breathe and smile and mean it.

She leaned over and pressed a kiss against Regina’s cheek and shrugged, returning her attention to the midwife who looked between the two with a raised brow and a smirk of her own on her lips. “That’s fine, I’ll take the blame this time.”

“Mmmhmm,” was the all knowing response Ursula directed at them as she set about taking Henry out of his carseat. “This is where I tell you that I needed to clear you for that hanky panky you got yourself this morning blondie but I’ll let you slide on account of that happy honeymoon glow you got going on.” Cradling Henry against her legs, she went about checking him over. “Any discomfort down there? Tightness? Dryness? I’m going to assume that the bleeding has stopped, if not y’all nasty.”

Mouth popped in a perfect circle of shock, Emma spluttered. “Hey! I did _not_ get any this morning. I was totally on team give!”

“ _Emma!_ ”

Emma ignored Regina’s moderate outrage that would definitely be added to the car talk she was in for. “I just… It feels too intrusive to think about right now. I don’t really want anything near my bits for a while. Is that… Normal?”

Ursula, entirely fine with discussing this, also ignored Regina’s reddening face and looked up at Emma. “It is perfectly normal. You just squeezed a watermelon through a rubber band baby, you take your time getting back into the swing of things. But other than that no issues? No perineal pain or anything? Breastfeeding is going alright? Have your nips started to crack yet because that is terrible and crazy painful. I have some miracle salve to send you home with if you’re having problems with that.”

“Okay, good, that’s good,” Emma sighed, though she hadn’t been too worried about her lack of sex drive but it was always nice to know that things were normal. “Otherwise no real pain down there anymore but yes! This whole breastfeeding thing kind of _really_ sucks but I’m trying to stick it out.”

Handing Henry over to Regina, Ursula nodded. “If you stop don’t beat yourself up about it. Pumping or even just plain old formula is perfectly fine. Don’t listen to google mom’s. They’re all idiots,” she intoned with a firm nod of surety. “Alright, you good with me taking a peek down there to make sure everything’s healed up okay? I can even get that pap smear you’re due for out of the way if you want.”

“Are you taking me to lunch after,” Emma shot back habitually, always one to go for humor when uneasy. The idea of even Ursula looking around in there, even in a strictly clinical sense, made her insides clench uncomfortably.

Ursula cackled and nodded, moving to grab the things she needed to examine her patient. “I’m sure going to miss you two, damn. Please, promise me ya’ll will come back for the next one.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Emma grumbled as she stood up and began unbuttoning her jeans, kicking them off unceremoniously and peeling her underwear down too. Everyone in that room had already seen her up close and naked, there was no point to modesty she figured though her body desperately wanted to shake with how exposed she felt.

She moved and awkwardly settled against the crinkly paper covered table across the room, eyeing the surrups like they were the real villains of the moment. “So, do I just…”

“Yep, put your feet up on those,” Ursula nodded and handed over a thin purple dress shield that would only obscure Emma’s view of what the midwife was doing down there.

Regina sat quietly watching Emma’s discomfort grow, and when her wife finally settled on the exam table she got up herself, keeping Henry cradled in one arm while her other hand found Emma’s and squeezed. “Should I be jealous nena?”

It was enough to make Emma snicker, but the way her expression faltered when the speculum was inserted made Regina want to push Ursula away and demand she stop the exam immediately.

“Hardly,” Emma whispered meekly, swallowing hard as she tried to remain calm and not clench or shy away from the hand that gently poked and prodded like her body so badly demanded she do.

“Your bruising looks to be mostly healed and those few stitches look to be mostly dissolved. Little man did a number on you but everything looks pretty good down here. Now I'm just going to get a few swab samples and you'll be all done. This will feel weird but you know the drill.”

Emma nodded but said little else through the duration of the exam and then through the remainder of the visit.

She made it all the way to the car before the tears finally showed themselves. “I don’t even know why I’m crying,” she groaned pathetically into her hands, torn between whimpering and laughing over of how utterly ridiculous she felt. Here she was, a twenty six year old mom, crying in the passenger seat of her wife's car because she'd just been felt up by a tiny scrubber brush to the vag. " _It was just a pap smear_!"

Regina leaned across the center console and held her tightly, pressing kiss after kiss against her fingers until they finally dropped and a shamefaced Emma looked at her with shiny red rimmed eyes. She smiled weakly, stroking blonde curls back from tear damped cheeks. “Why don’t we go and get some ice cream. Celebrate the exam being over and done with. I think you've more than earned it my love."

“Yeah,” Emma sniffled, rubbing her nose dramatically, still feeling absurd but less so with how calm Regina made her feel. “That sounds good.”

 

 

* * *

 

The next day, Emma was back to pins and needles as she walked back on set after being away for the last two days. It felt like everyone was staring at her and if it weren’t for Regina being on facetime with her to make her feel less alone she’d have turned around and walked straight back to the bug and gone home. Let them sue her.

“You’re grinding your teeth nena.”

Emma shot her phone a look, making a point to open her mouth to stick her tongue at the faces of her wife and son curled up in bed. “Happy?”

“Beyond measure,” Regina’s raspy voice purred. “Are you almost to the trailer?”

“Yeah, Mary Margaret said she’d meet me-”

“EMMA!!!!!”

“Before I got there,” Emma groaned and turned to see her friend attempting to run towards her. It looked painful and Emma briefly wondered how pampered a life Mary Margaret must have lived if running was never something she’d needed to learn.

Out of breath and rosy cheeked, Mary Margaret stopped in front of her, holding onto Emma's arm as she panted. “I’m sorry! I meant to meet you in the parking lot but I got caught by the director. He wanted to go over placement.” Catching sight of Regina on the phone, she brightened and waved. “Good morning Regina! And ooooh, Henry! He’s just so,” Mary trailed off with a wiggle of joy, unable to settle on the right word for how precious the little boy was all serene against his other mother's chest.

“On that note, I think you are in relatively capable hands. But if you need me I can be there. We’re home all day,” Regina promised, her soft smile saying all the comforting words she didn’t dare voice in front of the likes of Mary Margaret Blanchard.

Emma nodded and glanced at her friend then back to her wife. “I’ll text you in bit. Be good for Mommy little man. I love you. Both of you.”

“Te quiero nena.”

The screen went black and for a minute Emma wasn’t sure she could move her legs to walk further onto set. She felt like patient zero.

“Hey,” Mary Margaret said, nudging her arm gently, a look of sympathy in her evergreen eyes. “We’ll do it together. Come on, they’re expecting us in makeup.”

Emma nodded again, feeling nauseous, but allowed Mary to guide her through the building to the makeup room. On the way Emma felt her nerves flare and she almost didn’t make it to her chair. “So um… Have you… Heard anything?”

Sitting beside her friend, Mary Margaret shook her head, waiting for the artists to come over and get started on making them tv ready. “No, but I’ve given my father a few choice words. He doesn’t agree with Albert and Carlisle, if that’s worth anything, but he’s outnumbered. He did tell me tell you to try and get through today as normally as possible and that he was sorry for all the upset.”

She couldn’t help but laugh humorlessly at the words of encouragement. “Right. Normal.”

Emma closed her eyes, done with talking to the daughter of the man who was only ‘sorry’ for planning to fire her because she was human and had a baby and wanted to have a life outside of work. Keeping her eyes closed, she fished her earbuds from the front pocket of her jeans and blindly plugged them into the bottom of her phone.

Across town, Regina was just finishing changing Henry when her phone trilled with an incoming facetime from Emma. She suppressed a laugh, the ‘missed us already’ poised at the tip of her tongue. But when the screen came to life her view was of Emma from the nose down.

She could see the fresh tears that slipped down her cheeks and the earbuds that said she was trying to tune everyone out around her. Regina’s heart broke. “Oh my love.”

Regina watched someone who wasn’t Emma wipe away the tears and slowly begin the process of making her look more like Claire Holt than Emma Swan Mills. Picking Henry up from the changing table, Regina returned to the rocking chair where she sat quietly crooning lullaby after lullaby, song after song, until the hitch in Emma’s breathing stilled and their son’s eyes grew heavy.

“Thank you,” Emma’s freshly glossed lips mouthed silently before the screen again went black and Regina was again wrapped in worry for the well being of her wife.


	2. She cherished these things, she'd say "alabanza".

_____________

Alabanza means to raise this

Thing to God’s face,

And to sing, quite literally,

Praise to this.

_____________

 

Cooking was therapeutic. There was just something about it that always made sense when life didn’t. Regina loved that. She loved the certainty, the precision.

Yeast, flour, butter, water, sugar, eggs, evaporated milk- these things made sense to her. She knew what would happen when they blended together in a mixing bowl just like she knew that when she kneaded her fingers through the sticky dough that eventually it would become firm and unyielding. Her hands would come away smelling of almond and cinnamon and at the end of all of that labor there would be something good and warm and comforting to hold onto. There was comfort in the knowing.

Conchas she knew.

Each step was ingrained in her heart as much as it was in her head spanning from back when her Papi was there and whole and okay, before heart attacks and sadness stole him away from her. Back when her worries were solved by the strength of his arms that seemed for all the world to be made for fixing her problems. But as she grew the upsets became too large for just hugs, too real. When first heartaches and grief demanded more he’d taught her how to cook.

It had been on a cold rainy afternoon in a kitchen that would never again hold the lilting laughter and harmonies of her abuelita that her Papi taught her to make his mother’s conchas. He’d sniffled through the instructions. Each tip of the measuring cup shaking more than the last due to the weight of his grief. She remembered taking his trembling hand into her own far smaller one with the chipped purple polish still adorning her nails, she’d wanted to comfort him, to steady him somehow. Her own tears burned and blinded her view of most of the steps he tried to show her before they pattered against the flour dusted counter but she refused to let go of his hand to swipe the them away.

She was eight and none of it made sense. Not the pain in her chest that throbbed with a life of its own, commanding and all encompassing. Not the tears that made her Papi’s voice crack and waver as he explained how to carefully pat the cocoa and sugar topping over top of the uncooked buns. She didn’t understand how they could be there in abuelita’s kitchen, doing something she’d witnessed the kindly older woman do a thousand times before, not when they’d left her body in a box in the ground earlier that morning. It wasn’t fair. Everything hurt and didn’t make sense and she didn’t think things would ever feel okay again.

When they’d finished he’d kissed her head and handed her a warm plate. “Con pan y vino se anda el camino, mija. Recuerda siempre.” And he’d tried to smile, to choke down his own bite while Regina stared at him incredulously, not sure how food could ever make something not seem so bad.

Years later she understood. She understood and she remembered.

Conchas she knew.

What she didn’t know was what was happening with Emma on the other side of town. It had been over two hours since the last message she’d received from her wife and the unease that silence caused made her stomach painfully churn.

To bide her time she measured flour and sugar and prayed to a God she hadn’t spoken to as often as she knew she should, not since Emma was in labor and her only thoughts repeated in a constant loop of ‘please God take away her pain’ and ‘heavenly father please give her strength’ until at last the pain was over and they’d both cried over a new life that she silently thanked him for as well.

“Don’t,” she warned herself, pressing her palms flush against the flour speckled countertop. “She’s probably fine. Just because she hasn’t called doesn’t mean something is wrong. You’re overreacting.”

“Aaand what exactly are you overreacting about this time? Is it the neighbor’s dog being in your yard again? Because at this point I say she’s yours and call it a day.”

Regina jerked, startled by the sound of someone behind her. Her hand flew to where Henry’s head lay nestled against the skin of her chest under the moby wrap she wore as she rounded on her cousin. “Marian? How the hell did you get in here?! The front door was locked!”

Marian pulled her purse over her head and shrugged. “It’s called a key. You know, llave? The thing you shove into the other thing and twist?” Tossing her bag onto the table she sauntered up to the otherside of the counter Regina stood at and plopped herself down onto the stool that usually held Emma when food prep was occuring. “Que pasó? What’s got you all forehead vein-ing?”

“Since when do you have a key to my house?!?”

“Really? That’s what you’re going to get all hung up on,” Marian asked, pulling her phone out of her sports bra turned shirt. “What does it even matter? I’m here all the time anyway. Do we really care that I may have stolen Emma’s key when the two of you were pissy ass drunk at that one Cinco de Mayo party you threw to make a spare for myself like two years ago?”

Regina frowned, her hands finding their way to her hips. “Two years!? And exactly how often do you sneak in here whe- what are you doing? Are you taking a picture? Marian,” she growled, her confusion shifting to genuine annoyance.

“Oh, I’m here all time. You and the wife should really consider sleeping in pyjamas. You never know when someone is lurking in the middle of the night with their snapchat open and recording,” she teased, her fingers flying over the screen of her phone. “And, for your information, I was being a nice cousin and sending it to peaches. Wait,” Marian’s head snapped up, her dark eyes widening. “ARE YOU TOPLESS UNDER THAT!? Oh man, I need a better picture than the one I took. Turn sideways! I want some tasteful sideboob for the missus.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose with one hand, Regina breathed slowly and began to pat at the curled bump that was Henry’s bottom with the other.

Marian snickered, dropped her phone to the counter and leaned forward. Her hands cupped her chin as she stared up at her best friend with bright eyes and a wide toothy smile, batting her long lashes sweetly. “Hi.”

That simple word paired with the glittering look that lit her cousin’s eyes broke the spell of her anger. Shaking her head, Regina sighed. A small smile of her own finally appearing. “Hello Marian.”

“I’d ask how you are,” the younger woman started. “But I’m pretty sure I know that. So instead I’m going to ask if we’re going to dance around what’s got you all worked up or are you going to fill a girl in so she can help?”

Another heavy breath fell from Regina while she shook her head reluctantly, her hand alternating between patting and stroking Henry’s back, the feel of his tiny body against her hand a comfort. “It isn’t anything extreme. At least, I hope it isn’t. I just haven’t heard from Emma in a few hours and it’s making me anxious. I want to know if she’s okay. She had a rough start when she got to the set this morning.”

Marian snorted. “Of course it’s about Emma.”

Regina shot her a look but Marian rebuffed it with an apologetic hand, “Sorry. Maybe she’s just in the middle of filming stuff? I mean I don’t know how these things go like the two of you do, what with being a lowly yoga instructor myself, but I’d think with her being gone from set for like three days they’d probably be pretty behind right? Maybe they’re just trying to fit in as much filming as they can while she’s actually there. It’s just a thought. Don’t bite or anything. I could be wrong.”

Of course what Marian said made perfect sense. Shutting production down for that long would absolutely cut into their regular filming deadline, more so because quite a lot of the episode they were meant to be filming centered around the return of Emma’s character Claire but even with that logical thread of thought clasped between her fingers her heart refused to accept the tether. It fretted and begged her useless phone to light up with news, be it good or bad. She needed to know _something_.

“I know, it’s just-”

A soft understanding smile curled one side of Marian’s lips. “You’re worried. Hence abuelita Lucia’s conchas,” she said simply, nodding to the towel covered mixing bowl on the counter that hid the rising sweet bread.

“I needed to get my mind off of the waiting,” Regina admitted ruefully, glancing at the bowl that contained all vestiges of her sanity. “It seemed like a good use of time and I figured you and Emma would enjoy the treat.”

“You knooooww, if you’re still all flustered and wanting to pawn off your time in trade for yummy food I wouldn’t be opposed to some chilaquiles,” Marian only half heartedly joked, sitting up a little straighter on her stool the more she thought about what Regina could make for her to eat in order to keep her mind occupied and away from the drama Emma was currently steeped in. “Or ceviche! Ooooh, yeah! I take back the chilaquiles request. You should make tío’s ceviche instead! I want chips! Apúrate, chica! Hazme comida!”

Regina chuckled, her head shaking as she moved to the fridge where she pulled out a package of thawed chicken. “As tempting as ceviche sounds we don’t have shrimp,” she explained, dropping the chicken into the sink. “Or enough limes. But if you’re so interested in inviting yourself over for dinner than you can learn to be happy with baked chicken and spinach pasta.”

“Buzz kill,” Marian muttered with a roll of her eyes. “You’re too wound up. You know what you need? Wine. And dancing. I’d say shots but you’re all boring and responsible now. Let’s get you some vino and some cumbia.”

“No.”

It was an easy answer for Regina. She didn’t have the time to dance and she certainly didn’t want to drink the way Marian was suggesting. Not when she had Henry to care for and certainly not when she had Emma to think about. So instead she moved around the kitchen to get a start on dinner, determined to ignore her best friend.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” slipping from her seat, Marian cocked her head to the side, her eyebrows high and demanding. “You thought that was an optional thing. Let me rephrase. You’re having a drink and dancing with me. I’m not saying you have to get drunk Regina. A glass of grape juice won’t kill you.” She moved around the counter to corner Regina at the sink, holding her hands out expectantly. “Now hand over the love muffin and go get yourself some clothes. I’m not Emma. I don’t have a profound love of your breasts. The thought of them bouncing around all ‘free the nips’ while we work this tension out of your shoulders is actually really disturbing so step to woman.”

When Regina made no move to hand over Henry, she snapped, “Rápido cabrona, dámelo mijito.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Regina grumbled but carefully pulled the moby wrap back from covering Henry’s downy head. She gently eased him from the twisted fabric and handed him to an impatient Marian. “Nothing too loud. It’s taken me over an hour of skin to skin contact to get him as calm as he is,” she continued, pulling a small bottle out of the folds as well. She’d tried to comfort feed him while she’d been busy making the famed pastries to no avail, the tiny boy had refused everything that wasn’t endless patting, the rhythmic sway of her body, or gently hummed melodies to songs he’d never heard before.

Marian waved her off dismissively. “Sorry I can’t answer you because you’re upstairs putting on a shirt while I snuggle this naked guapo gordito,” she cooed, lifting the diapered baby up so that she could rub her nose against his smooth naked Buddha belly before settling him back into the crook of her arm. “Huh Henry, you’re the only one in the room! Yes you are! Si, mi chiquito! Tu Mamá-”

“Alright, I’m going,” Regina huffed and sat the bottle down on the counter, ignoring whatever insult her cousin was whispering to her son as she walked out of the room.

 

* * *

 

Emma was tired. Drained from the effort it took to keep it together all day on set. All she wanted to do was to sink into the couch and curl up with her wife and son and ignore the world for the next few hours. At least until she had to get up and do it all over again tomorrow.

The day had been rough but she’d expected it to be after walking out and Regina’s very public bashing of the showrunners attitudes towards women and mothers. Emma had gone in expecting repercussions. Be it a slap on the hands or a pink slip, she expected something. Anything. What she hadn’t anticipated was to be ignored. She didn’t know to prepare to be isolated and sneered at between takes. And she definitely didn’t think she’d be written out of a story arch her character had been meant to be part of for her comeback episode.

But despite everything that had happened on set she’d taken it all in stride. She didn’t cry anymore after the makeup room incident with Regina. She didn’t slam down her clipboard and scream ‘that’s not fair’ like she’d wanted to when the script rewrite had come in declaring Killian as the new golden boy of the episode. She didn’t even bat a lash when crew members she’d once been chummy with moved away from craft services when she’d stopped to get a snack on her way to go pump. Emma had even been understanding. These men and women were owned by Gold, Spencer, and Blanchard. Regardless of being on her side or not they still needed this job and she got that and she accepted becoming a pariah as gracefully as she could, not letting any of them see her stumble.

Now that the day was over though, and she was tucked safely behind the steering wheel of the bug heading home she didn’t have to keep up the pretense of indifference like she had when she’d caught the quiet whispers of cast and crew alike throughout the day.

Here in the quiet calm of her car she could let the dejection fill her until the seams of her being were near bursting. Today had been hard. Hard enough to make her wonder if all of this was worth being an actress after all. This was not what she’d signed up for when she’d gotten into the business and if this was the kind of battle she’d have to fight, to either be able to live the dream and be an actress or have a life than she’d gladly give away every moment of glitz and glamour to keep Regina and Henry and whoever else they decided to have along the way. Because a family was not something she was okay with giving up for the pipe dream of a career.

She was frustrated. Frustrated with the men who dictated their world and the people who blindly followed their lead. She was upset that her wife felt she needed to step in and jeopardize her own budding career as a producer to keyboard combat on her behalf. She hated that her mother in law was now involved and probably thought she was an absloute idiot for having ever signed the damn contract she had with Spun Gold Productions. But mostly she was frustrated with not having any direction in regards to what would be happening in terms of her contract.

Would she be let go? Kept on? Or, if by some strange twist of words, she’d misinterpreted Gold’s not so thinly veiled threats entirely- which wasn’t likely but she could wonder. The few times throughout the day that she’d managed to spot the showrunners they’d been huddled at the edge of the stage, talking amongst themselves while shooting her heated glares but never once did they come to discuss matters with her.

Emma wasn’t sure how long she could hold up under the weight of their stares without an answer. Maybe she’d have Regina call her mother, as loath as she was to do so, and have her ask if it was legal for them to string her along like this. Scared and always waiting for the blade to drop.

It was a little after eight when she finally pulled her bug into the driveway. She spotted Marian’s car parked at the curb and the sight made her smile. At least she’d be in for some levity tonight. She needed levity after today.

With a weary hopeful heart she trudged through the front door with her nursing bag slung over her shoulder. “Lucy, I’m home,” she greeted in her best lilting attempt at Desi Arnaz only to be met with the overly upbeat sound of what could only be defined as nineties tejano music coming from the back of the house. Tejano music and laughter.

Lots of laughter.

The kind of laughter that made her wife’s usual raspy range hit a lower timber that after almost eight years of knowing each other still managed to make her insides go all warm and tingly.

Emma _loved_ that laugh.

The sound of it pulled her all the way to the kitchen where she hovered in the doorway, a smile of her own already firmly in place before she could even begin to process the sight of her wife’s hips swaying and rotating beside Marian’s in such perfect synchronization that it could only be something they’d done many a time before, back when they were nothing but wisps of little girls putting on shows for an enthusiastic grandmother Emma had only heard about in stories.

She watched the way Regina’s face lit up with the force of her laughter. Each verse of the clearly love sick song both girls belted out only served to make her laugh harder. It made Emma’s heart swell the longer she stood there, transfixed by her wife washingmachine-ing around their kitchen.

As the song came to an end Emma pushed away from the doorway clapping. She set the bulky black bag on the table near their son’s bouncer and beamed. “Now there’s a girl I haven’t seen in a while,” she said with a grin that grew when Regina’s bright eyes landed on her. “Hi pretty lady.”

“BIENVENIDOS A LA HORA FELIZ!!!!” Marian cried excitedly, arms stretched high in the air, her fingers wriggling faster than worms on  hooks. While Regina had declined the offer to do shots, she most definitely had not and after a quick run to the closest El Rancho for shrimp, limes, and a few other key things like the makings for micheladas she’d partaken in a few helpings of Regina’s secret stash of Don Julio. “We made you comfort ceviche and conchas!”

Emma chuckled at their cousin, not really buying the ‘we’ of that statement but she didn’t contradict the lushy woman. Not when her bright viridian eyes were only for her wife. She was more than happy to welcome Regina into her arms with the kiss the brunette had for her.

A kiss that went a little farther when the tip of Regina’s tongue licked at her lip, begging to be let in. Emma could taste the lager and spice on her tongue and snorted. “I see you’re having fun,” she teased, the roughness of her day forgotten for the moment in light of the happiness she’d come home to.

“I made her drink,” Marian giggled shamelessly. It had taken some time but she had pushed and prodded and waved a hilariously red solo cup she’d found hidden at the back of the pantry under her cousin’s nose until the call of spicy beer had convinced Regina to have ‘just one drink- if it’ll shut you up’. “Yooou’re welcome peaches!”

Regina’s cheeks were flushed from dancing and her eyes were warm and mirthful. She wasn’t drunk by any means but she was loose, relaxed from the endorphins that had helped her chase the worry of the afternoon away. She brushed her fingers along the planes of Emma’s cheeks reverently and pulled her in for another kiss that held just as much warmth, and was filled with just as much love, as the first kiss had been.

“ _Alabanza_ ,” Regina breathed warmly against Emma’s lips when they parted, her gaze taking in every inch of pale skin like it held all the answers to every question ever posed to the universe. Regina looked at Emma the way the sun kissed the horizon each morning; with breathtaking splendor and awe. “Welcome home nena.”

Now it was Emma’s turn to blush. Her cheeks flamed scarlet and her chest constricted under the intensity of her wife’s gaze. Even her ears felt hot.

If it weren’t for the sound of melodramatic gagging that came from behind them Emma would have kissed Regina again until there was no longer a breath of air between them that hadn't been shared.

“Yoooou guys are sooooo disgusting!” Marian huffed and threw herself down onto one of the chairs at the table near where Henry sat strapped into his bouncer. She took a pointed drink of her red beer and picked up her phone. “It’s fine! I’ll just sit here and look at tinder with my godson. Go. Be gross lesbians. See if I care! I only _broke into your house_ to make conchas with your boring ass blanca wife over there! It’s cool! I’m forgettable. And alone. On tinder. With a baby. _Alone_.”

“I think she’s feeling left out,” Emma snickered and pressed a quick kiss to her wife’s cheek, she chose to ignore Regina’s ‘serves her right’ as she extracted herself from her wife’s arms, moving to stand behind Marian’s seat, her chin coming to rest against chestnut locks as she watched her aggressively swipe left and right on her phone. “Hello my favorite cousin and friend. I’m so very glad that you broke into my home to liquor up the love of my lif-”

Regina scoffed in outrage, “I am _not_ liquored up! I’ve had _one_ michelada. It wasn’t even an entire modelo!”

Emma tried to hold back a laugh and failed. “Okay, I guess what I meant to say is I’m very glad you broke in and only gave my wife half a beer and made me food. However can I repay this kindness oh favorite cousin of mine?”

Ignoring Emma’s attempt to placate her, Marian instead tilted her phone up so that Emma could see the image of the man on her screen. “Think that's photoshopped??? Or like stolen from Playgirl or something?? Cause if not _daaaaamn_ Daniel!!”

It took Emma a second to shift enough to see the wavering photo Marian was trying to show her but once she caught a look of the chiseled jaw and broad toothy smile presented to her she shrugged. “He looks cute enough I guess but dude, look at his name! Is that really his legal name?? Do people actually get named _Merlin_?” Emma snatched the phone from Marian’s hand to get a better look, scrolling through the info the handsome man included in his bio. “That can’t be his real name. Who would do that to a kid? Can you imagine crying that out in the heat of the moment?? Ooooh- _MERLIN_!?”

“Who gives a shit about his name, look at that face!!” Marian whipped her head around to stare at Emma who clearly missed the most important thing on that screen and seized her phone back with a harsh scoff over the injustice of Emma’s indifference. “And cute enough is a puppy. That?! That is an automatic hell yes,” she scolded, swiping right on him. “A hell yes with a please God make it mutual. Hallelujah, amen!”

“You do remember that I’m a married lesbian woman right?” Emma defended with a nudge only to be pushed back by Marian as she leapt from her seat, a loud whoop of excitement bursting from her.

“ _HELL YES! I GOTTA MATCH_ ,” she crowed, dancing to the counter to claim her purse. “Hasta luego bitches, mama’s gotta date with some di-”

Regina’s palm slammed down on the other side of the counter loud enough to make the three other people in the room jump and look her way. Well two of them looked. Only one of them burst into startled tears. The ceviche she'd pulled from the fridge forgotten beside her hand and bowl of chips she'd retrieved before Marian's excited find on the 'dating app' derailed her mission to feed her wife. “ _MARIANNA LUCIA GUADALUPE AVALOR DE LEON_!”

Wide eyed, Emma carefully unbuckled Henry from his seat, her jerky bouncing a poor attempt at soothing him while her eyes moved between her wife and Marian who stood just as frozen as Emma had been initially. “Ooooooh, sheeeee’s maaaaaaad at yooooooou,” she taunted, not even trying to containing her enjoyment of Marian’s predicament.

“ _She used all my names_ ,” Marian hissed at Emma, stalk still and staring at Regina like someone would a T. Rex in a Steven Spielberg film. “I _think_ she used all of my names…”

Emma sniggered. “I think she did too and she’s even got the forehead vein! You're in _soooo_ much trouble!!”

“I seeee that… What do I doooo???” Marian whined pathetically, still unmoving even when her phone chimed with a new message that could only be from Mr. Match himself.

Regina pursed her lips to keep from smirking. Her eyes flashed with amusement that was solely her wife before shifting again to firm authority when they flitted back to her best friend. “You hand over your keys, you sit your intoxicated self down, and you eat dinner with your family. That’s what you do. Or I call Tía Elena and she can come yell at you for pulling her out of mass early because you were trying to hook up with a stranger you met on the internet. _Again_.”

“You wouldn’t...”

Regina didn’t bother to say a word. She simply picked up her phone in a silent threat that said she’d have no problem calling Marian’s mother and ratting her out.

Marian remained rooted in her place, weighing her options until Regina said to the phone in her hand, “Hey Siri call-”

“Fine!!!! _Fine_!!! I’ll stay!!!! _Just don’t call my mooooom_!!!” Marian wailed in frustrated panic. “Don't listen to her Siri!!” Reluctantly she fished her keys out from her bag and threw them at her all too smug cousin a little harder than was necessary. “You’re a mean gay! Not a happy gay at all!!”

“She’s a mean gay with love,” Emma promised through her chuckles, moving to lead Marian to the dinner table with one hand. “She’s a mean gay with love.”

 

* * *

 

Later, after Marian was put to bed in the guestroom- safely away from shot glasses and the call of tinder dates in the nearby area, and Henry was fed and changed and thankfully sleeping in his crib for the time being, Emma finally settled into bed with Regina. Their legs tangled and caressing in that sleepy way they did most nights before sleep claimed them.

“I hope you didn’t mind tonight. Marian can be quite persuasive when she wants to be,” Regina whispered into the darkness of their bedroom, her fingers tracing the invisible lines connecting the freckles that dotted Emma’s forearm that was currently curled securely around her middle by memory.

It was something she’d done so often and for so many years that she no longer needed light to see where the dots were to connect one to another. They were the stars and her fingers formed the constellations between. To Regina these dots made the ones that decorated the night sky seem pale in comparison. She’d rather be lost in melanin and milky skin that she could stroke and hold than pockets of gas trapped millions of miles away.

Emma’s warm breath danced across her bare shoulder when she chuckled, pulling Regina out of her thoughts about stars and skin and how much she lived for the woman curled behind her.

“It’s fine. I'm always a fan of drunk Marian. It goes to show that you can take the girl out of the barrio but you can't take the barrio out of the girl,” she joked with a snicker that trailed off, a hint of longing sinking into her words. “I wish I could have been here to see more of it,” Emma admitted with a small flex of her arm and a kiss against the warm skin that brushed against her lips when she spoke. “You need more nights like tonight. You don't dance nearly enough anymore babe. I think we need to fix that. I miss seeing all of your smexy moves.”

Regina hummed in vague agreement but didn’t respond further. Now that the fun of the evening had worn off the seriousness of their lives had crept back in. She felt the heaviness in the air around them grow as they each silently waited for the other to broach the subject.

With a sigh Regina caved first. “How was the rest of today? You didn’t call back after your lunch. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not and then when you came home you didn’t bring it up. Did Carlisle or Albert…” She trailed off, not sure what to ask. Was there to be a meeting? Did they hint at what actions they’d be taking? Was Emma alright?

“It… was a long day,” Emma breathed, her arms tightening around her wife without conscious thought. Her nose nuzzled into the wisps of short brown hair at the nape of Regina’s neck and she breathed deeply the scent that made her feel at home. “Do you really want to talk about this? I don’t want to ruin-”

“I want to know nena,” Regina interrupted, tapping her fingers against Emma’s arms so that she’d loosen them. When her wife did, Regina shifted and turned, hating that the face she was greeted with was pained and unsure. She tenderly brushed the lines of Emma's frown. “Talk to me mi vida. What happened after we last spoke?”

Emma sighed. She closed her eyes and allowed those fingertips to coax the words from her. “It was hell. It felt like being back in the Bronx. When I was that unwelcome new mouth that needed to be fed in a new group home. No one would talk to me, everyone stared and whispered when they thought I couldn’t hear them. It’s kind of shitty when Leroy is the nicest person to you besides Mary Margaret. Everyone else treated me like I was the living embodiment of the plague. I don’t know if they knew the details of what went down or not, or if they even cared. Which, I mean, I get. I do. They have jobs to do and going against their bosses isn’t the way to go about it but it made it feel like this was all my fault. Like I was the one who did something wrong. And besides not saying a damn word about when a disciplinary meeting would be held Spencer did a rewrite of most of the episode. He retracted my story arch and gave it to Killian.”

“Oh my love,” Regina sighed again and wrapped her arms around Emma to pull her tightly against her chest in a vain attempt to shield her from the unjust world they worked in. “I am so, so, _so_ sorry.”

Traitor tears burned against Emma’s closed eyelids the more she hid into the safety her wife’s neck. They were the tears that she’d fought against since six o’clock that morning. Tears of humiliation that stemmed from being forced to wear that ill fitting scrub set that no one in wardrobe was allowed to exchange out according to a very remorseful Ashley when she asked if they’d had another pair of scrubs for her to change into.

They were tears of frustration from having what she’d worked so hard for yanked away like a sucker from a misbehaving child. And they were tears that lingered from a wound so old, so deeply rooted into the very fibers of her makeup, that she was sure she’d never fully escape the desolation that came with not belonging somewhere that was supposed to be meant for her.

Boston Memorial had felt like home for the last three years. She’d cultivated her character, poured countless hours into Claire to make her rounded and complex- human. She worked to make her real and far more than any script could ask for. A character that she loved and admired. Emma had thought she’d made friends with the cast and crew. She had thought she’d belonged but now? Now it didn’t feel like home and it hurt. It hurt so deep that it made her forget that she didn’t want to cry like this anymore.

“Let it out nena,” Regina soothed, holding her wife tighter until she could feel the stiffness slip from those tensely curved shoulders and the weight of that emotional dam break. She laid there, quietly reassuring Emma with words she knew the other woman couldn’t hear, not with the mournful cries that fell from her lips. Because Regina knew that even at twenty-six years old, some hurt went too deep to ever really heal and when those wounds became raw and festered with ugly words that hit too close to those vulnerabilities there was nothing to do but cry them out. “I’ve got you,” she promised, praying the depth of her words could be felt if not heard. “I’m here. You will never be unwanted, not here my love. Not here, not ever.”

 

* * *

 

And so the week went by.

It went in much the same fashion as the first day. Always silent. Always full of anxiety and crushing worry that at any moment the axe would drop. Emma struggled from one day to the next. Steeling herself while at work only to collapse under the pressure when she returned home.

Some nights she’d come home to Marian, all fired up over one thing or another, other nights it would Mary Margaret who’d conveniently had a kitchen mishap and was now in the midst of a remodel, though Emma doubted the validity of that one she never once turned the company away. She clung to the distractions until she no longer could, curled around Regina, losing herself in kisses and thrusts and her wife’s breathy uunnghs when she couldn’t take another night of mournful sobs.

It went on like that for days and the next week was no better. Everyday Emma waited, desperate to hear the fate of her job but it never came. But if the deadly glares Spencer shot her way whenever he saw her on set were anything to go by it was clear what side of the fence _he_ sided on and it clearly wasn’t hers.

It was maddening to be forced to walk around on eggshells, scared to do anything that would force her to put a toe out of compliance. She found herself spending more and more time in her trailer, not talking to anyone, Mary Margaret and Leroy included.

Numerous times throughout the week she’d found herself marching hell bent toward the showrunners office with the intention to throw it all down. To say that she refused to be treated like this. That she wouldn’t work in these hostile conditions anymore. She wanted to tell them to go to hell, that she quit and leave it all behind but every time her fingers reached for the doorknob crippling fear froze her in place until she’d slink back to the safety of the trailer, demoralized and tired. So very tired.

It wasn’t until Thursday afternoon after a particularly grueling scene where her character Claire had been unsuccessful in the emergency heart surgery she’d performed on a newborn that looked remarkably like her own real life son, did the news come that she’d be needed to stay late after filming was wrapped for the day.

“Yes, we’ll be needing you to um, stick around after filming today Emma. The head of HR will be here and we’d all like to have a sit down and discuss everything that’s uh, that’s been happening around here.” Leopold had explained with a forced smile and eyes that weren’t at all friendly like she remembered when she’d first gotten the job. Emma had that sinking feeling of being a fly in a trap and it sucked.

She’d agreed to the meeting, but only because she knew had no other choice. How could she not say yes? This was her boss telling her she had a mandatory disciplinary meeting. Even if he hadn’t said it in those exact words she knew that’s what it was. He knew she knew that was what this was. Human Resources never sat in on a regular production meeting.

Her hands shook as she dug her phone from the pocket of her scrubs and sent off a quick message to Regina to call her asap and blindly headed away from set with no real idea where to go to think. The trailer felt too exposed. The wardrobe closet had no privacy. Maybe her bug.

“Emma? Are you alright?”

Emma’s head jerked up to see a jogging Mary Margaret following after her. “You look rattled. Are you alright? That scene was absolutely horrible. I hate when they do things to children like that.”

She wasn’t sure what to say. Yes Mary Margaret was her friend, hell one of her only friends really, but she was also the daughter of the person who had just told her the meeting that determined her fate would be held in an hour. Should she open up about this to her? Emma looked down at her phone, willing it to come to life with Regina’s smiling face but it didn’t. It stayed useless and black in her hands and she sighed.

“Yeah, the scene sucked but uh, no. That’s not what’s got me… like this,” she answered, motioning to herself in explanation. “Your dad just let me know that after filming we’re going to have a meeting with the team and HR,” Emma went on to state, far more resolute sounding than she felt, though the way her gaze still dropped to her phone every few seconds said how not okay she really was with the sudden news. “I’m waiting for Regina to call me back. I’m… Nervous. It’s stupid. I just want this to all be over with but I still feel sick to my stomach about going in there.”

Mary Margaret reached a hand out to rest against Emma’s arm, her face serious. “It’s not stupid Emma. And I feel absolutely awful you have to be in this situation at all. No one thinks,” at Emma’s pointed look she backtracked, “No one but Carlisle and Albert think that you deserve to be treated like this.”

Emma snorted out a disbelieving breath but said nothing, instead she watched her fingers fiddle with her cell impatiently. What the hell was taking Regina so long to answer?

“It’s true.”

“Well your dad didn’t seem very keen on the idea of my being pregnant either,” Emma shot back but made sure to hide the venom from her tone.

Mary Margaret sighed, “My father can be quite an idiot. More so when he’s around the other two. But he asked me my opinion, and I hope you aren’t mad that we discussed it, but I told him what he did was despicable. To even have a clause like that included in your contract was ridiculous and then to hold you to it after you gave birth? I asked him what he’d have done if it had been me in your shoes.”

Holding back the initial upset that they’d been speaking about her behind her back, Emma looked up, eyes guarded. “What did he say to that?”

“He got really quiet,” the other woman admitted, growing quiet for a moment herself. “I think that made him question how he treated you. He never did answer me. I’m hoping that means that he’s come to realize that harassing you over getting pregnant and over the minimal weight gain was wrong. But if it didn’t, I want you to know that I stand with you and if you need someone to go with you into the meeting I’ll be right there with you. You’re not alone in this Emma. It’s time we stood up to men who think it’s okay to treat women this way.”

It felt good to be validated. That even though Regina, and Cora, and the few others she’d spoken to about this all agreed that how she’d been treated was wrong, she still had allies outside of those who _had_ _to be_ on her side.

Sheepishly Emma nudged Mary Margaret’s arm. “Thanks Mare, I appreciate that. I might take you up on the offer. I don’t kno-”

Busta Rhymes blared from her hand with loud melodic declarations of loving his lady… Yup yup. He loved his-

Emma’s cheeks tinged a soft pink. “Please don’t tell her that’s what plays when she calls.”

“I won’t say a word. Go talk to Regina and let me know if you need me to come with you to the meeting,” Mary Margaret promised with a giggle and left, shaking her head.

Taking a second to calm herself, Emma answered the call just before it transferred to voicemail. “Hey babe.”

“Are you okay?”

A smile curled Emma’s lips, it still got to her that someone cared enough to ask that even after all these years. “Kind of? I’m not sure. Blanchard stopped me after my last scene to let me know that we’d be having a meeting with HR after filming was wrapped for the day, so… There’s that.”

“What?! Without any prior warning?? They didn’t give you any time to prepare?”

Emma sighed and nodded, then realized her wife wouldn’t be able to see the motion through the phone. “Yeah. Do I need to call your mom or something? Is it okay if I go into this meeting by myself,” she asked, genuinely wondering. She’d never been involved with anything that included Human Resources. She was wildly out of her realm of understanding here and unsure how to go about any of this. “Mary Margaret offered to go in with me but I’m not sure how much good that would do. I mean other than moral support I don’t think she’d know her way around legal stuff like your Mom would.”

There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line and Emma didn’t need to see Regina to know that she was pinching the bridge of her nose and pacing. “I think it would be wise to have my Mother there. I’ll call her as soon as we’re done. Do you know what time you’ll be done with shooting?”

“Around six, at least that’s what the call sheet says. You don’t think your mom’ll be mad about the impromptuness of the meeting do you? I mean, she’d still come even if she was pissed right?” It was a legitimate fear, she didn’t like the idea of pissing off the one person who was willing to help her but it wasn’t like she had any say in the matter either.

Regina paused in thought. “She’ll likely have an issue with it but I doubt she’d hold it against you for it. She knows that you’ve been waiting for word of the meeting for weeks. It isn’t your fault they’ve purposely kept you in the dark.”

 _Purposely kept her in the dark_.

It stung to think that after three years of being a good employee it had come down to this. Emma pushed the painful ache those words caused to resonate in her chest from the forefront of her mind and nodded again. “Okay. I’ll uh, I’ll just… Let you know what happens when I’m done.”

“Nena wait,” Regina called hastily, “It’s going to be okay, one way or another. I promise. I don’t know if I can get out of production, but I can try. I can be there with you.”

Emma cleared her throat, anxious. “No, no it’s okay. You’re at work, I feel bad I’m bothering you right now as it is. You should be focused on what you’re doing. I’m sorry babe. Look, I’ll let you get back to filming. I’ll call you later. I love you.”

She hung up before Regina could return the sentiment. Her stomach hurt and she wanted to run, to leave and not deal with any of this but she couldn’t. Not this time.

The walk to the trailer seemed to take forever, or maybe it was her thoughts that were on a never ending loop that made the journey seem longer. Either way, when she stepped into the small room she felt overwhelming dread sink low into the pit of her stomach. Emma didn’t how she was going to keep herself together until the meeting, not when she could already feel her nerves morphing into traitorous tears.

Her phone buzzed against her palm. She closed her eyes and let out a slow calculated breath. She wouldn’t allow the burning behind her eyelids to progress to more than that. She refused. Emma had had enough crying. She was over wasting her emotions on something she had no control over. When she finally opened her eyes, sure that she could remain in control for the moment, she glanced down at her phone to read the message she assumed would be from her wife telling her not to worry again or maybe bitching her out for hanging up the way she had.

_I will be there shortly. Don’t do anything brash. -C_

It was funny. If she’d been asked a month ago if she’d ever felt any kind of want for a mother like Cora Mills Emma would have laughed until red in the face.

Even as a child without a mom of her own, Cora would never have made the cut. She was something akin to the various foster mothers and group home leaders she’d had over the years. The kind of women who had kids but shouldn’t have really had them. But now? As she stood rooted in place, terrified yet relieved tears threatening to ruin all the hard work of the makeup artists, she’d admit she’d never been more thankful to have Cora in her life than in that moment.

Cora would know what to do, what to say, and how to get results. Emma breathed out a shaky breath and sent off a quick text of gratitude, too scared to write more for fear of her trembling fingers making a mess of the message.

Cora would be there and Emma wouldn’t be alone. She just had to wait. She could do that.

She settled down at the table and began to open her pumping bag, pulling out the breast shields and tubes with thoughtless hands that knew what to do even when her mind was a whirlwind of stress and hope and stomach churning anxiety. All she had to do was hold out until her mother in law showed up. She could do that.

 

* * *

 

Regina’s stiletto clad foot tapped against the leg of her directors chair impatiently. She’d called her mother and explained what had happened with Emma, how they’d blindsided her wife with a late request to stay for a meeting she’d have no time to prepare for, so logically, as she glanced down at the time stamp banner on her phone, she knew that Cora would most likely be at the set of Boston Memorial by now, no doubt with her longtime lawyer and friend, Mal, in tow.

Logically she knew this. Illogically? She was a mess of nerves and desperation to be _there_. To be sat beside Emma, holding her hand tightly against her lap while she glared daggers at the men on the opposite side of the table they’d be at, a united front of ‘leave my wife the hell alone’. Maybe key Carlisle’s car on their way out. Crack Spencer’s tail light for good measure.

She jiggled her phone again, uselessly, to watch the screen light up. No new messages from either her mother nor Emma. The timed marched forward by a single minute and Regina groaned.

“Hey, you gotta stop with the tapping Mills,” Tamara warned, dropping into the chair beside Regina’s. “Mushu said he’s picking it up with the boom.”

Regina shot a glare at the man who visibly cringed and moved away from her line of sight. “What does it matter? It’s not like we’re rolling yet.”

Wide brown eyes turned to take in Regina’s pinched lips and frown. “Look,” Tamara whispered, lowering her voice so that no one would overhear their conversation, Mushu included.

“I get you don’t want to be here right now, I get it. I really get it Reg. I do, but we have two more scenes left to film of this pilot and I need you to be all here for it. You gotta get your head back in the game if you want this pilot to work girl. We _need_ this pilot to work. I know it’s tough right now and you’re feeling pulled in two directions but you have people here expecting you to help land them permanent work. The wifey will be fine. She’s got your mom on her side and I actually feel a little bad for how severely those jack-holes are going to have their asses handed to them. And as much as you want to be there you have to know Emma would want you do be focused on the job you’ve got going on here and you know I’m right,” Tamara pressed with a take no shit look etched across her features.

Regina knew Tamara was right. She did. She knew that it wasn’t fair to the people who milled around the small set on the back lot of Prospect Studios if she allowed her personal life to affect the turn out of what everyone hoped would be ABC’s newest hit show come fall line up.

People were counting on her to direct them. Regina watched their lead, Anamaria, bounce around the manicured lawn that lead up to their would be Mayoral Mansion pretending to be a pirate with Lucy, the girl she’d given up for adoption while Jasmine, in her perfectly tailored grey business dress, watched on and laughed at the duos antics. They were counting on her to make their performances matter. Everyone was.

“They’re waiting for you boss lady.” Tamara added with a nudge. “Now stop moping and go and be the director we all know you are.”

Regina rolled her eyes but stood, a rueful smile curling her lips. She stuffed her phone into the pocket of her blazer and nodded, “You know I’m not the boss here. Not anymore than you or Jacinda are.”

Tamara shrugged, “Yeah but it made your ass get up didn’t it?”

Holding out a hand, Regina pulled her friend and partner up from her chair. Both of them silent as they watched their actors play around, a stark difference to the scene they were about to shoot where Jasmine’s character would lay down the law in regards to who was allowed around _her_ daughter. “Did you get a look at Tiana and Naveen in full costume before they went to film on the green monster with Jace?” Tamara asked after a prolonged moment of silence.

“Jacinda snapped me a picture when they got there,” Regina answered, a real smile taking over. “I don’t think we could have found anyone better to be our Snow White and Prince Charming.”

“Damn right,” Tamara agreed then lightly pushed Regina closer to the threesome that continued to play buccaneers on the grass. “Now go nail down a kickass final scene for this pilot so we can see more of this story of ours play out okay? Then when you’re done here you can rush off and be your own Prince Charming for the wifey.”

Regina scoffed, her head held high, the smile she wore shifting to an easy smirk. “I think you mean Queen dear.”

Tamara laughed, her hands clapping. “Alright, alright. Go get filming Queenie. We gotta lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in, so let’s move.”

 

* * *

 

“Sit up straight dear, you look unkempt when you slouch.”

Emma wanted to make a crack that she didn’t know how to be straight, she really did, but she knew that that kind of nervous quip wouldn’t be in her favor. Not with Cora at least.

As it was Emma was just so damn relieved to have someone next to her at the large boardroom style table that Cora could have told her to stand on her head while reciting the Gettysburg Address backwards and she’d have joyfully attempted it.

“Yes ma’am,” Emma mumbled, stretching her body up until her back twinged and her thighs pressed tightly together, making it nearly impossible to fidget much to her dismay. Her feet wanted to shake. To twitch and move but now they couldn’t. It left only her fingers to tap relentlessly against the balled up fist in her lap and that was not nearly as satisfying.

Cora cast her a calculating sideways glance. “Do remember to breathe as well Emma.”

An audible rush of air slipped past her now parted lips and Emma tried not to slump her shoulders. In her mind she chanted, ‘don’t cry’ over and over again until it sounded more like ‘don croy’ than ‘don’t cry’ and what the hell did that even mean anyway?!

Emma felt a hand press firmly over top of her own, stilling her ever tapping digits. She turned her head, her eyes blown wide and open, showcasing the fear she felt threatening to over take her. Or maybe all they reflected were the light sheen of tears that welled the moment her gaze landed on her mother in law. Emma wasn’t sure.

All Emma knew was that Cora looked horrified then slowly her face softened, or at least softened as much as a woman like Cora could.

“Am I to understand correctly that you’re under the assumption that this will be the end of your career? That you think that there will be no other work for you outside of this small mediocre medical drama on primetime television? I can assure you Emma that is not the case.”

Dumbly, Emma latched onto the smallest part of the pep talk her mother in law was attempting to offer her. “You’ve called me Emma. Twice.”

Surprisingly Cora chuckled breathily. “Is that not your name dear?”

“No, it is,” Emma stumbled, too scared to move her hands to do any kind of fidgeting for fear of losing the only contact that was keeping her grounded in the moment. “It’s just you never use it. It’s always pronouns... or Swan. Or ‘ _that woman who married my daughter_ ’.”

Cora’s appraising eyes swept over her face and she regretted opening her mouth at all. Why couldn’t she have just accepted the pep talk and not said a word?

“I take it that you feel as though I don’t approve of you.”

“Well yeah,” Emma blurted truthfully before her brain and mouth could form a coherent agreement to lie. “I mean…” She tried to save face, to find something to say to cover it up but there was nothing. No words that could ease her from her blunt honesty. Emma deflated with a sigh. “Well... Yeah. I mean, we both know that Regina could have done a hell of a lot better than me.”

Again Cora tittered, the small curve of her aging lips turned up into an approving smile. “I can see how your candor would have charmed my daughter,” she mused.

Emma held her breath, not sure how to respond to that.

“I may not always be the most,” Cora paused, searching for the correct word, “Forthright about the relationship you have with my daughter but I do have eyes Ms. Swan. I can see the way you have changed her and likewise how she has influenced you over the years. I understand that your upbringing was quite lacking in many ways and while I’m not one to pander to or fawn over those who have overcome hardships just because they’re overcome them, I can say with sincerity that I _am_ proud of the way you have striven to aspire to something more and have not only achieved that goal but continue to meet it again and again. I am proud of the way you rose to becoming a loving wife to my daughter and again when you chose to become the mother of my grandson. As far as I can see you have met every new obstacle with some semblance of dignity, and I look forward to seeing where this current path leads you because I know it will be met with the same determination you have shown towards all things in your life. You are a diligent worker Emma and I know with the utmost certainty this will not deviate you from doing whatever you put your mind to.”

A lump the size of Montana swelled inside of Emma’s throat and no matter how much she attempted to swallow it down it wouldn’t budge. This was a dream. The kind of dream that lonely little girls curled up on dusty threadbare cots in over crowded group homes had and it made Emma scared to breathe. Scared to move. This was the most motherly thing anyone had ever said to her and she didn’t know how to respond without bursting into hard wanting sobs the moment she opened her mouth.

“Now, this kind of discussion won’t happen often, so please listen closely dear as I won’t be repeating myself.” Cora waited for Emma to nod that she understood before the matriarch continued. “You are worth far more than any expectation a man could ever put upon you. And I want you to understand that I will stand beside you through each and every fight you face on this front because you deserve to be fought for. No woman should ever have to choose between a family or a career, not the way I did. I am here to tell you that this will not end your career, not anymore, and it certainly won’t define who you are as an actress nor as a person. There will be other jobs, other children- lord willing,” Cora smiled ruefully, kinder than any smile she’d offered yet. “And there will be other moments where a helping hand will be needed. This is where you need to believe me when I say that I always will be there to guide you just as I have Regina and Zelena. You are apart of this family my dear and that means a great deal to me. I will carry this weight for you and see you through this just as I would my daughters. These men,” Cora sneered, “Will not be the end of you Emma Swan Mills, is that understood?”

Emma nodded, holding back tears so fiercely it made her head throb and her chest ache. She was terrified to blink. Anything that would cause the tears to fall. Not when Cora was staring at her with such softness. Not when her heart screamed that this terrifying woman was more of a Mom than she ever imagined and that she was sorry for ever doubting a second of that truth.

Cora understood, and in a rare moment of compassion, she brushed the back of her age worn fingers along the length of Emma’s cheek tenderly once and then twice, her tone as soft as her honeyed gaze. “Now dry your eyes my darling girl. Don’t ever let anyone know what kind of power they hold over you.”

And with that the moment was over. Cora pulled back her hand and sat straighter, if that’s even possible, and returned her reading glasses to her nose, skimming the papers she’d brought along with her. “Mal will be arriving shortly. Do try to regain some control over yourself before she and the rest of the board arrive.”

Emma didn’t blink. She didn’t breathe. She didn’t move. Not even when HR walked in with a few of the network representatives and the men who were the start of all of this mess twenty minutes after Cora’s lawyer showed up.

She sat, quietly but confidently, barely able to hear anything that passed between the two opposing sides. No, Emma couldn’t think past the flaming path along her cheek that still blazed with Cora’s acknowledgement.

Emma wouldn’t be forced from her career. Not if she didn’t want to be. This was just a blip on her timeline as an actress, barely worthy of a wiki page, and with the guidance of the strong woman beside her she’d see other roles, other projects, anything she put her mind to. It was a heady feeling, this level of relief after weeks of stress and worry. But as Emma tuned back into the meeting, listening to Mal hammer into the young blonde HR representative with a threat of a discrimination lawsuit she couldn’t help but feel vindicated.

She wasn’t scared anymore. Not of the men who squirmed across the table with every accusation that was hurled at them, not when things like slander and wrongful persecution were being fired with accuracy against their feeble ‘it was in her contract’ excuses. She finally realized she wasn’t as powerless as they’d made her feel. It had taken a while but Emma had finally come to realize she didn’t need to cower to a man in this industry.

Her job would be safe. And maybe down the road another actress who wanted to lay claim to both a life and a career wouldn’t have to face the injustice she had because she’d fought against the system that for years had slighted against women… and won.

 

 

* * *

 

 

If it weren’t for the softly cooed ‘goo’ that sounded from the blanket on the floor, Regina would have worn a hole into the carpet from the amount of pacing she’d done since she’d arrived home. Home wasn’t where she’d wanted to be but when she’d text her wife to see if she’d wanted her there Emma had sent a lightning quick response of ‘no’ shortly followed by a slightly longer ‘go home to Henry’ so she had. Reluctantly.

Henry’s grunted calls grew more huffy, more frustrated, the longer he laid on his belly. Each kick of his legs grew more pointed. The effort of tummy time and the lack of attention from his mother was enough to wear the two month old boy out. A pitiful wail crawled up his throat as he dropped his face into the blanket he laid on in defeat, crying hard hiccuped laments into an overly cheerful looking owl who clearly did not sympathize with his plight.

“Oooh lo lamento mi príncipito,” Regina crooned, moving to lift her son from the dreaded exercise his pediatrician swore was good for him. “Me equivoqué, I’m sorry. I’ve been ignoring you haven’t I? That wasn’t very nice of me, was it? I’m so very sorry my darling boy. Mommy is just so distracted. It's a terrible excuse but it's true,” she admitted with a kiss to the fluffy brown locks that lightly dusted his head while she bounced him with every step she took around the living room. “I’m just so worried about your momma. I am. I’m so very worried about her.”

Henry stuck his tongue out and cooed a loud gurgled goo against her shoulder, grunting at her like he was in agreement of her worry, and that he too was worried about his momma. It made Regina laugh and hug him a little tighter to her chest, pressing kisses against his neck that was mostly hidden by his rounded cheeks. “You know exactly what to say don’t you my little prince?”

“And what is he telling you now? If it’s about those missing oreos he’s lying,” Emma teased from the doorway, a broad grin on her face. “Hi family.”

Regina turned, her eyes wide as she took in her wife’s smiling face. “ _Well_??” The ‘how did it go’ went unsaid but Emma knew what she wanted to know. What she needed to know. They’d been in this battle together, Regina having sat in the trenches right beside her from day one. Of course she wanted to know the turn out. Emma could only imagine how difficult it had been for her wife to simply come home rather than waiting outside of the meeting, or better, barging right on in and making her opinions painfully clear to the room at large.

Emma crossed the living room and pulled her family, _her family_ , into a firm hug, nestling her hand against Henry’s squirming body while her lips sought out Regina’s temple. “I’m to be written out of the show by midseason. There will be no legal action. My contract is to be dissolved. If anymore harassment comes from the showrunners or corporate Maleficent will file a suit against the entire studio company. We won,” she explained against warm skin, unable to stop kissing her wife between her words. “Your mom did it. She got me out of my contract and there was nothing Spencer or Gold could do but sit and glare.”

It started with a hitched breath. A hitched breath that shifted into a choked up sob and before she could stop herself, Regina was crying. Her arms were pinned around Henry, with Emma’s around them both. All she wanted to do was touch her wife, to hug her and be proud of her for getting through it all without losing herself in the process but all she could do was cry relentless tears and worm her body closer into the warmth of her wife’s embrace.

“Heeeeyyyy,” Emma soothed, tightening her hold until Henry squawked in protest. “We did it. It’s pretty much over. I’m sorry I put you through all of this. I know- I know it was a lot and I’m so sorry Regina. I’m so, so sorry you had to put up with so much-”

“Shut up you idiot,” Regina choked around a sob, nudging her face against Emma’s at her ear. “I’m just… I’m so relieved. Nena, all I wanted was for you to be free from there. Free from those men. And now,” the force of her emotion stole anything else she wanted to say away as another fierce sob broke free.

She felt Emma move them, guiding them backward through the room and Regina let her with blind trust in her wife. When she felt the edge of the couch against the back of her knees she carefully sat back. Folding onto the couch and into Emma’s side when she joined them, Henry positioned between their bodies. “You’re really done,” she asked wetly, tears clinging obstinately to her lower lashes, washing away a days worth of mascara down her reddened cheeks.

Emma nodded against the side of Regina’s head, the arm she had wrapped around her shoulders tightening ever so slightly. “I’m done. I just have to get through a few weeks of filming. Maleficent said she’d be issuing one of her interns to be with me on set to insure that the showrunners hold to their end of the agreement without any backlash.”

Regina’s relief was palpable. It filled the living room with a sense of peace that had been lacking from their home for what felt like forever. She inched her head up to press a kiss against Emma’s cheek. “I am so proud of you nena.”

A warm flush of scarlet seeped across the bridge of Emma’s nose and down across her cheeks. Cora’s motherly praise still ringing hotly in her ears.

“Enough about me,” Emma said, shifting back against the arm of the couch so that she could see Regina. “How was filming?? Did you get everything wrapped up? Are you onto editing now?” Emma asked enthusiastically and reached out to take Henry.

With a parting kiss to his cheek, Regina handed him over and grinned a crinkly eyed smile that said how truly pleased she was with the work her team had done today. She swiped her thumb against the blackened smudge under one eye, her smile never fading, “We officially wrapped. You should have seen it Emma,” she eagerly explained, carried away by the excitement of her day. She ran her thumb beneath her other eye as she went on. “The costuming, the acting- I hope ABC picks it up. It will be such a magical show… No pun intended.”

Regardless of intention Emma laughed, the smile her wife wore was too infectious to not join in on. “I’m so happy for you babe. I know they’ll pick it up. They have to. They would be idiots to turn down something so well written and beautiful. When do I get to see sneak peeks?”

“Hmmm, maybe after I’ve had a chance to celebrate my wife’s victory and have spent some time enjoying my family,” Regina answered loftily, patting Emma’s leg that had crept across her own during their conversation. When she was free Regina stood up and headed toward the hall.

“Hey! I thought you wanted to spend time with us,” Emma called with a mocking scoff. “Your Mom is so confusing!” She complained against Henry’s cheek between peppering it with kisses, enjoying his attempts at laughter, the garbled grunts and coos he directed at her not quite there yet to be considered a real laugh. “So confusing!!! Yes she is!! She is con-fus-sing!!!”

Regina returned with a rueful smile holding the house phone and a pamphlet Emma was constantly rehanging on the fridge despite her many attempts to put it in the trash. “Well if you’d rather we not celebrate with pizza,” she teased, taking back her seat on the couch with a graceful flop.

Emma gasped, turning a gurgling Henry around so that Regina could nuzzle her nose against his rounded button sized one. “I take it all back! Your Mommy is the smartest, most genius person in this whole house! And we love her! Yes we do!! We never question her motives! Nope, not at all!!”

Henry cooed around a wet gummy smile, his uncoordinated hands jerked in his excitement, bopping into his own face more than the hair his splayed fingers wanted and both women couldn’t help but laugh.

“Soooo, since this is a celebration and all and there’s going to be pizza,” Emma began, a lopsided grin taking hold of her lips hopefully.

“No. I’m not watching Transformers again,” Regina answered swiftly and opened the take out menu.

Emma’s laugh was loud and hard and full of so much happiness. She didn’t even care they weren’t going to watch her movie. She was free. She had her family and somehow managed to keep ahold of her career. So yeah, she could definitely live without another viewing of her favorite movie. For this week anyway.

 

* * *

 

The weeks went by, winter turned to spring, though the weather in Southern California didn’t really show much change. Still, as the warm April air drifted through the valley floods of colorful wildflowers began to dot the hillsides and Emma couldn’t help the added pep the scenery brought on.

She was finally free from Boston Memorial. No more grueling hours. No more fake blood in her hair. She was done. Free.

Henry had grown into a belly laughing little tyrant but now that worry that she’d miss out on all of his infancy while she was at work were gone. She spent her days with the talkative boy, occasionally bringing him to Regina’s set for lunch now that she and her team had gotten their early greenlight for Once Upon a Time.

It was on such an afternoon toward the end of April that Emma, lounging in Regina’s chair on the indoor set of Granny’s B&B, watching a very bemused Anamaria strut around in nothing more than a ribbed wife beater and the hottest pink undies she’d ever laid eyes on, received an email titled urgent from Edna, her agent.

She quickly opened the message and skimmed the document, her brows raising higher the more she read.

“I love when you bring this little nugget with you on lunch date days,” Tiana enthused as she came up beside Emma, a very happy Henry in her arms. “Though I gotta warn you, one day I’m just going to slip him in my bag and take him right on home with me! Huh handsome.”

Henry gurgled around the fingers he gummed.

When Emma didn’t answer or look up from her phone, Tiana frowned. “You okay sugar?”

“Huh?” Emma’s head snapped up, looking dazed. “Uh, yeah. Hey are you okay watching him for a minute? I need to go make a call to my agent and,” her stormy green gaze fanned out around the set to find Regina, who was deep in discussion with a trench coat clad Jasmine- pointing at the basket of apples the woman held like it was something truly important.

“The wife is busy,” Tiana finished for her, a kind smile lighting her face. “Go ahead, I don’t have to start filming for a while. I’ll take the little man out to see the flowers.”

Emma reached out to rest her hand against Tiana’s arm, “Thank you, you’re a lifesaver!”

She wasted no time moving away from the soon to be live set, hustling to the room that housed the Mayor’s office. In the relative darkness the unused set with the tree lined wallpaper and huge foreboding furniture in black and white put Emma on edge a bit. Regina had definitely succeeded in getting her vision of Evil Queen-esque in this room.

Emma shook herself and looked down at her phone, “Focus you idiot.” She quickly dialed Edna, her legs already moving to pace the length of the mayor’s desk when the batty older woman’s voice filled her ear.

“AH YES! HELLO, HELLO DAH'LING!!!”

Emma winced and pulled the phone away from her ear. “Uh, hey Ms. Mode. I just got your email. Um, is this legit?”

“Shoo!!! Move!” Emma could have swore she’d heard someone get swatted with a rolled newspaper but she didn’t say anything, she didn’t even laugh like she normally would, not with the information that rattled chaotically through her brain. “Yes, that’s better. Now! As I was saying darling yes! I just got off the phone with the casting manager. Apparently the showrunners heard about your availability, they are very adamant about having you be the face of their SuperGirl. Well, what do you say Dah'ling? Huh?? What do you say???”

“What do I say,” Emma echoed, her mind going a mile a minute. “I… I don’t know what I say Edna. I just got out of a show. Would it be wise to get right back into another one? Are they really asking for me specifically?? Don’t you have a no capes policy?”

Edna scoffed hard over the phone. “Boston Memorial is old news dah'ling, old news! We never look back on old news, and no capes only applies to auditions darling, only auditions! Take the day to think about it, okay? Okay. I’m sending over the season pitch and the pilot script. You read them.”

“Yeah but-”

“YOU READ THEM! I have to go darling! I have to go! Much to do!! I speak to you later.”

The phone went dead.

Emma’s heart pounded. Her head swam. Holy shit, someone wanted her to be in their show? She’d never been handed a job. Never been requested. She’d always toiled away in auditions, bleeding out every bit of herself just so that she could maybe get a call back.

This was… A lot.

Her phone dinged with the notification of her newest email from Edna. Apparently she’d be fedexing the script right over and that Emma should expect it by this evening. Her palms itched and her head spun.

Holy. Shit.

 

* * *

 

 

When Regina had wrapped for the day, handing over the reins to Jacinda for the evening, she’d found Emma in her office with a nearly sleeping Henry lazily nursing. “Hey,” she whispered quietly so not to disturb their son.

Emma smiled weakly up at her, “Hey.”

“Is everything alright? You disappeared, I thought you’d gone home.”

Emma watched her wife move around the small room, grabbing various things she’d need to look over tonight while she went through the dailies they’d shot. It never ceased to amaze her how hard Regina worked to get what she wanted done. “No. I uh, I got a call from Edna.”

“Oh?” Regina asked, a hint of a smirk on her lips. “And you’ve still got hearing in your ears? That’s impressive.”

That made Emma chuckle, her gaze dropping to Henry to be sure she hadn’t been too loud for him. “Yeah, I know right? She must not have had enough coffee yet. I’m pretty sure I heard her assault Bob again though. He’s kind of incredible for taking so much of her shit.”

Regina snickered and grabbed her laptop. “What did she want?”

“Uh, well,” Emma began, a frown tugging between her brows as she thought about the craziness that Edna had shoved at her. “I guess the CW is lining up another superhero show. Supergirl. And uh, the showrunners got word that I’d been released from BM and, well, I guess they want me to be their Supergirl.”

For a moment the room fell silent but for Henry’s ever slowing gulps the further into sleep he drifted. Regina stared at Emma, unsure she’d heard what she thought she had. “They offered you a role? No audition? You’d be Supergirl?”

“Yeah,” she answered weakly, that pained look returning to her features.

Regina was confused. She frowned and moved closer to her wife, kneeling down in front of her with a hand pressed tenderly against her knee. “Why the face? Isn’t this a good thing? You were so scared you’d be ruined and now look, you’ve already got someone petitioning to get you on their team. That’s incredible nena.”

Sucking her lip between her teeth, Emma nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I just,” she trailed off with a sigh, her fingers brushing along Henry’s nose and over his closed eyelids. “It’s not too soon? I’ve only been out of a job for a month and a half. And then what happens? You’ve got your job here, which, I am not at all opposed to, just with you working crazy hours and me working crazy hours… What about him?”

It was a logical thought, one they’d spoken about quite a lot between Emma going back to work and once again when she’d been released. “Nena, it won’t be as bad as you think it will. We made it work while you were still on Boston Memorial and I was editing my pilot. He wasn’t alone. And, I was thinking actually...”

Emma lifted an interested brow, silently asking Regina to continue.

“Well,” Regina started, rubbing her fingers against Emma’s knee. “You know how Marian is already at our house more often than either of us like? Well, what if we put her to use? We could give Mrs. Poppins her notice and see if Marian would be willing to be our nanny. Then Henry would be with someone we mostly trust and-”

“And it would keep Marian out of trouble,” Emma added with a grin that matched the one growing across her wife’s perfectly painted lips.

“Exactly,” Regina laughed under her breath. “Why don’t we go home and talk about it and this possible new role of yours more. Has Edna sent over anything about the show’s concept? What direction they’re thinking of going in?”

Emma carefully eased her breast from her son’s slack lips and handed him over to Regina in exchange for her laptop. She deftly pulled her nursing bra back into place and adjusted her shirt as she spoke. “Yeah, Edna is fedexing it over. It should be at the house soon. Why don’t we call Marian too, have her meet us at the house for dinner and see what she thinks about being our nanny. We can pick up some wine on the way home, bribe her into submission.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh _hell_ no!” Marian cried, scandalized, shaking her head wildly.

Emma sighed. “Marian...”

The younger woman’s eyes continued to skim across the page of script that had been delivered for Emma not long before she’d arrived. The script she’d been told she wasn’t supposed to be looking at. The one she still had clutched in her hands. “Hmmm?” She hummed, still refusing to look up from the dialogue she was reading.

Regina reached across the dinner table and plucked the thickly bound script from her best friend’s hands and handed it back to a smug Emma. She smiled at the outraged huff that fell from her cousin. “As we were saying,” Regina continued undaunted. “Would you be interested in taking over as Henry’s nanny? I know how much you complain about your job and this way you’d have an actual excuse to come over and eat us out of house and home.”

“Oh that? Totally, I’ve been waiting for you guys to fire that perky birdbrain with the bag fetish and ask me to fill in for months! Took you long enough,” Marian answered, reaching for her glass of wine. “My mom’s already all tripped out over the idea of getting to walk through the mall with the two of us and pretend he’s her grandson. She even bought me a fake wedding ring to wear. You know, so I look the part of a respectable Catholic mother.”

Emma snorted and didn’t doubt a word of what Marian said. Elena would absolutely do something like that.

Rolling her eyes, Regina picked up her fork. “Well, I’m glad you both have it all sorted out then.”

“ _Anything for you reinita_ ,” Marian swooned, her voice dropping into a thick heavy accent, her eyebrows wiggling playfully. “So peaches," she went on nonplused, turning to look at Emma. "You’re going to be a superhero huh? That is a definite upgrade from being a surgeon on Monday night tv.”

“Surgeons _are_ superheroes Marian,” Regina chided lightly, spearing a piece of pasta with her fork and pointing it at her friend. “They’re everyday heroes who do limitless good by saving the lives of the people who come into their operating rooms daily.”

Emma grinned at her wife, her nod of approval moving the ends of her hair around her shoulders. “Yeah, what Regina said.”

Rolling her eyes exasperatedly, Marian sighed. “I take it back. You two will make terrible bosses. I quit. Here’s my two hour notice,” she said, holding out a piece of garlic bread from the bread bowl as an end of service offering.

“That’s a slice of bread,” Emma sassed but took the bread anyway, taking a deliberate bite out of it just because she could with no fear of contractual repercussions. “But uh yeah,” she continued around her morsel. “They want me to be their Kara Danvers. It sounds pretty amazing from what I’ve read so far. I like the setup and according to the season pitch they want to have Kara be an openly out character, which is pretty cool for the CW. After what they allowed to happen on the 100 I think they’re looking for some positive spin from the LGBTQ+ community. A lead lesbian character fits that bill, ya know?”

Regina hummed her agreement and took another bite of her pasta, listening to her wife talk about the show made her feel hopeful that Emma would accept the role and find a new place to stretch her ever growing wings.

“That’s awesome. Do you know who they’d be hooking you up with?” Marian questioned between bites of her own dinner.

Emma shifted in her chair. She licked her lips and tried not to grin when she answered, studiously not looking at Regina as she spoke. “Oh, you know… Katie McGrath.”

Regina’s fork clattered loudly against her plate. Her face turning stoney in the time it took for her to connect the name to the face. “ _HER_!?”

Marian burst into hard bellowing laughter, choking on her food as she whooped with glee, and Emma’s cheeks grew red under the incredulous, and incredibly jealous, look Regina had her pinned with.

“Uh… Surprise?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it. Please excuse any mistakes as it's all me doing the editing and I'm an over worked tired momma. 
> 
> And if you're curious what my favorite cousin duo ever were dancing to in the kitchen it was totally Selena's Amor Prohibido. You're welcome lol.


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